


Life: CHANGE

by MissSilverWings



Series: The Carolina Connection [4]
Category: NCIS
Genre: Adventure, Angst, Comfort, Drama, F/M, Friendship, Gen, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-31
Updated: 2015-10-31
Packaged: 2018-04-29 05:15:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 43,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5116874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissSilverWings/pseuds/MissSilverWings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Carolina Connection Series: Book 2 part 1:  Life - Change</p><p>LIFE. After surviving and winning the battle with the Alvadas, the team begins to return to normal, but there are many changes in their lives. Ducky runs an OP!  R&R? THANK YOU! 'Wings</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Carolina Connection Series: Book 1, part 1: BEGINNINGS  
> The Carolina Connection Series: Book 1, part 2: VENDETTA  
> The Carolina Connection Series: Book 1, part 3: REPRISAL
> 
> The Carolina Connection Series: Book 2, part 1: CHANGE

* * *

 

At the Yard, they were hit by a cluster of cases that left them time to do little more but catch a shower and a quick nap now and then.

By the time they were dealing with the fourth murder case in three days, Molly hoped she'd never have to look at another body again.

Abby didn't have it any better. There were stacks of evidence that she was steadily working through and Ducky and Jimmy were constantly doing autopsies and paperwork, but slowly the cases were solved.

The following day when Gibbs was in MTAC with the Director, DiNozzo and McGee went out to interview somebody. Molly decided to go out to get a fresh sandwich rather than one from the machine and brought something back for Abby to go with her Caf-Pow.

Taking a few minutes to relax in the lab with Abby, they had a little bit of 'girl time.' This was a new experience for Molly and she really enjoyed these moments they had here and there. Molly asked about Abby's newest boyfriend.

"Oh, I don't think he's really a boyfriend – he's just kinda like a friend. I'm not sure yet. But he's sorta fun to be with sometimes. How about you, Mac?"

She chuckled, "Not even a thought on the horizon. For so many years, I was always on guard against bein' killed or kidnapped, I just stayed to myself with Jethro. Now I'm free to do what I want but I'm not interested in datin' anybody. I haven't had a date since high school."

_"High school?"_  Abby shrieked. "Mac, we gotta do something immediately! Something drastic!"

Molly laughed, "Abby, I think you missed the part where I said I'm not interested in datin'. Stand down, girl! I'm good. I'm happy where I am, I think. It's gonna take a while to get used to havin' a normal life again. It's been almost three years now, ya know. Jethro comes over about every night and I'm just happy being with him."

Abby looked at her with narrowed green eyes and Molly could see the wheels turning.

"Gotta get back to work, Abs. See ya later."

That evening when everyone was getting ready to leave for the day, Abby bounded up the stairs and announced, "We haven't been anywhere as a team in a long time. Tonight we're going out to eat, have a drink or two and reconnect with each other. And NO excuses! I gotta go get Ducky and Jimmy." Then she disappeared like the White Rabbit down the rabbit hole.

The four agents looked at each other and smiled. Why not? It  _had_  been a while. They were discussing where to go when the Autopsy team joined them, then they all agreed on a place.

Roger perked up when his human signaled to him to hop in the Jeep and they headed first to the apartment. The other human followed in his truck, parked it, then got in the Jeep for the ride to the restaurant.

Roger was on his very best behavior. This place smelled of food and that meant if he played it right, he'd get lots of good things to taste. As usual, a waitress exclaimed over him, slipping him little tidbits of this and that throughout the evening under the watchful eye of his human.

There was a lot of laughter and chatter, but Molly mostly sat back in her chair listening to the others. Gibbs was seated beside her with his arm across the back of her chair, just listening and observing the people who were so important to him. Everybody was thankful to finally get a break.

After a while, Abby turned the two of them and asked with a bright, happy smile, "So what are you two love-birds doing this weekend?"

The table conversation dropped to total silence. Molly was stunned. Gibbs was stunned. Each was thinking,  _'Nobody knows how I feel, why did she ask such a question?'_

Gibbs responded quietly with a voice that didn't quite bother to conceal the ice in it, "You're making a big assumption, Abby. Get your facts straight before you make such a statement or comment. You can cause a lot of harm with your thoughtlessness. Anything others, and that includes everyone here, do or don't do is  _none of your business_."

Abby babbled, "Sorry, I didn't mean for that to come out just like that. I mean I thought – well, I really - "

Tony laughed to help cover the awkwardness of her blunder, "Abby, maybe you better stop while you're ahead!"

She muttered, "Got that right!"

The group never got back to the level of relaxed camaraderie they had before her clumsy blunder so they settled their bills called it an evening.

Outside, Molly wordlessly handed the keys to the Wrangler to Jethro and settled into the passenger seat with Roger's chin resting on her shoulder.

Back at the apartment again, Roger got his regular food and a clean bowl of fresh water, followed by a short walk. Appetite sated, he went into the living room and stretched out for a good nap that had him snoring.

Molly brewed a cup of coffee for Jethro and a cup of tea for herself.

"Why don't you try the new coffee?" He had brought a bag over for her to try and keep on hand for when he was there – which was pretty frequently.

She snorted with a chuckle. "I wouldn't sleep for a week, Jethro! No, I'll stay with my tea. I like to tuck into nice warm bed and sleep at night."

His eyes remained on her face but made no response. She wondered what on earth he was thinking about while looking at her with that expression on his face. She finally tilted her head to one side a bit and asked softly, "Jethro? What is it? Is something wrong?"

His face softened and melted into a smile as he pulled her close and just held her. No, he decided, it's too early.  _'I don't know where she stands.'_

Coffee and tea finished, Gibbs went to his own home. It seemed so lonely there now.

Molly didn't get to sleep for a while. Her mind whirled around what Abby said. Surely she had kept her secret hidden. She didn't think there was anyway people could know or even guess. So why had the older woman done it? Maybe she was just fishing, hoping to trick her into saying something. But why would she even do that?

Then her thoughts turned to Gibbs. She was positive that he hadn't picked up anything on his radar. She loved it when he held her close and gave her those soft little kisses everywhere except where she really wanted him to. Well, she'd just have to keep herself reined in because she certainly didn't want to say or do anything that would upset the easy companionship they had now.

Gibbs tossed and turned. He had been flabbergasted when Abby came out with that question that assumed so much. He was terrified that Molly would pick up on the truth about him. That simply couldn't happen until he detected her feelings if there were any besides friendship.

He wanted to hold her small body close to him. To caress her and kiss her beautiful, soft lips. He was having more and more difficulty keeping his own feelings for her under wraps.

Tom Morrow had detected it. Anybody else? He hadn't noticed anything from either DiNozzo or McGee. Not Balboa. He had to put a lid on Abby first thing tomorrow morning.

Molly still had nightmares occasionally and she would cry out during the night. When Sarge called him at those times, Gibbs always went in to help her gently wake up and realize that it was only a bad dream. He'd hold her and rock back and forth a little until she was able to go back to sleep.

Some nights there would be one right after the other and he'd just stretch out beside her so both of them could get some sleep. Holding her close under warm covers almost brought tears to his eyes. He wanted to be like that every night, not just when the nightmares attacked.

The next morning Molly and Gibbs were quiet in the 'pen as each seemed to be sneaking a look at the other from time to time. While Molly was filling Roger's water bowl, Gibbs slipped down to the lab.

Abby was bright and bouncy. "Morning, Gibbs! What's up, my Silver Fox?"

"Need to talk to you a minute, Abby. Why did you feel it was necessary to ask such a question as you did last night?"

"Well, I – uh – I didn't really mean – for it to come out – just like that. I mean, I guess I didn't filter anything – before I asked – and - - - ."

"I'd appreciate it if you just left Molly and me out of your conversations from now on."

"But, Giiibs," she whined. "You've always been in my conversations! You're my Silver Fox – and I'm your favorite. Everybody knows that!"

"Is that what this is about, Abby? You're jealous of Molly? That we shared a house and we're still close?"

Abby's face showed fright and her eyes darted here and there as she thought. "No, Gibbs. I – I – well, of course I knew about the house, but you don't come down here much anymore – and you don't bring me Caf-Pows. It's like you've forgotten me."

Gibbs sighed with poorly concealed exasperation. "Abby, think maybe it's time you grew up? You're not some spoiled little girl. You're a grown woman and it's past time to behave like one. If someone else has more of my attention than you do, you'll just have to suck it up. There will be no repeat of what happened last night. Do I make myself clear on that? My business is my business alone, as Molly's is hers. As for favorites, I'll decide who is or is not my favorite."

He left and took the elevator back upstairs, leaving a stunned forensic scientist staring after him.

Gibbs couldn't have meant all that! She had always been his favorite and always would be. Maybe she just needed to get Gibbs out and away from Molly for a while. Then he'd realize. She'd work on a plan.

* * *

A Marine Lieutenant's missing young son who was later found hiding out at a "camp site", an attempted home invasion at a naval officer's home, the disappearance of a marine's wife who was found to have gone back to her mother's home, case after case after case, and the months flew by.

Tim had gotten in more lessons here and there and had even soloed and was now able to take Charlie up alone but only around the field to make touch-and-go practice take-offs and landings. He and Molly had to find time for another cross-country flight before he would be eligible to make his solo cross-country flights. Since it was now October, the days were getting shorter so it would probably be spring before that could happen.

Gibbs was struggling. He thought for sure he was going to explode if he couldn't make his feelings known to Molly. He got shorter and shorter with people, grouchier and grouchier.

Nerves stretched to the breaking point, he had even snapped hard at Molly when it was completely uncalled for.

There had been a stunned silence in the bullpen as they stared at him in shock. Molly's face turned white and she found herself swallowing hard to maintain her control.

Tony stood up and asked, "See you a minute, Boss?" as he gestured toward the elevator. The two disappeared behind the doors. Molly tried to keep herself contained, but she finally muttered a soft "Excuse me" to Tim after giving a Stay sign to Roger and went to the ladies room.

Thankful that it was empty, she dampened a paper towel and wiped her face, breathing steadily in an effort to quieten her shaking hands.

' _What has happened? Gibbs has been actin' so strange lately. Have I done somethin'? Why is he mad at me?'_

When Molly returned to the bullpen, Tony and Gibbs had returned to their desks but no one was talking. She slipped into her chair, took a deep breath and kept her eyes on papers on her desk or on her computer.

A little later, she became aware of a large presence near her and looked up into Tony's serious blue-green eyes as he knelt beside her, asking softly, "You okay, MollyMac?"

She nodded, still not trusting herself to speak.

The three agents remained silent as they tended to the things on their desks, not even looking up as Gibbs came and went.

* * *

Gibbs left the building and walked around outside. DiNozzo had quite justifiably given him a thorough reaming out in the elevator, shaming him for his behavior, especially his treatment of his junior-most and dearly loved agent.

DiNozzo didn't say anything he hadn't already told himself, so he had just listened in silence and had returned to the lobby level as soon as DiNozzo left the elevator. He had to do something but had no idea what. He simply couldn't stand this anymore; he was going crazy.

When he returned to the bullpen, there was complete silence and he cringed inside when none of his own team would even look at him. He knew DiNozzo's opinion and could easily guess that McGee's wouldn't be far from it.

As he sat and looked at Molly's pale face, he felt tears trying to spring forth from his eyes and got up and hurriedly left again. How could he have snapped and yelled at her like that? He walked back and forth on the grassy area that stretched out to the Anacostia River.

The love he felt for Molly had grown over time until the weight of it had become such a huge weight on his chest, he was surprised that his heart could continue to beat. He had to find a way to deal with this or it was going to kill him.

But, in truth, Molly deserved so much better than he. He was too old to even consider loving someone again. A permanent love, not a fling or to simply  _play_  at marriage again. When he closed his eyes at night, she was the only one he could see. During the day, he didn't even want a blink to interrupt his study of her. Everything about her was precious to him.

One small woman of unsurpassed natural beauty, unimposing, down-to-earth, genuine, happy with only a few small things, loyal, kind, smart, funny, an amazing investigator, a happy person with the most radiant smile in the universe. And that didn't even scratch the surface.

He felt – he stopped. DiNozzo was standing in front of him with feet apart, arms crossed. "You coming back in, Boss?"

Gibbs sighed and spoke so softly the SFA had to strain a bit to hear, "I don't know, DiNozzo. I don't know what to do about anything anymore."

"You want to talk about it?"

"Wouldn't help. I just can't figure out what to do, but – I have to. I can't go on like this."

DiNozzo was quiet for a while, waiting to see if his team leader would say anything else, but Gibbs' blue eyes were focused on the distance at things only he could see.

"Boss."

_"Boss!"_

When those blue eyes focused on him, he decided to take the bull by the horns and drag it into the arena, saying quietly, "Boss, why don't you just tell her? Wouldn't that be the best solution? Then both of you will be alright. Don't know what you're gonna do about Rule Twelve, but that's your problem."

Gibbs' was studying DiNozzo's face. Did he hear that right? Just tell her? Finally he had to ask, "DiNozzo, what do you think I need to tell Molly?"

The SFA snorted a half-chuckle. "Boss, everybody in the building knows. There are some things that just cannot be hidden. It shows in your face. It shows in your eyes everytime you look at her – which is pretty much all the time. You glow with it - when you're not snarling."

"But – what if she doesn't feel the same? About me, I mean."

"Boss, you think that such a very beautiful young woman would want to stay in  _your company exclusively_  if she  _didn't_  share those feelings? She's probably waiting for you to say something. A woman is usually a little more cautious in saying those things to a man unless she's fairly sure that her feeling is reciprocated. Understand?"

He continued, "You get some pretty good looks yourself when she thinks you aren't looking. I think the only people who don't know by now are you and Molly! There's probably an office pool on it - and I now have to disqualify myself from it for having insider knowledge or something."

Gibbs stayed quiet as he considered Tony's words. "But if you're wrong about her?"

"Then you have to court her. Just old-fashioned, take-her-flowers-and-poems courtship. What woman can resist the Gibbs charm?"

"Tony, I – I don't know."

"Well, you better make up your mind pretty quick. MollyMac thinks you're mad at her. You don't want her transferring out or going to another agency. Fornell hasn't given up on her, ya know."

Gibbs' eyes had widened and looked sharply as Tony had spoken. "I have to tell her..."

"Yeah, I think you'd better, Boss. You don't want to mess up on the best thing you've ever known since Shannon."

Gibbs met DiNozzo's look, then gazed out toward the river. Then he realized it was dark. "What time is it, DiNozzo?"

"Little after six. You've been out here all day. I think the grass needs probably needs reseeding or something now."

Gibbs got up from the bench he had sat on and strode quickly toward the building entrance, Tony trailing close behind.

Inside, the building was quiet since most teams had already left. Only the desk lights in their bullpen were on as McGee and Molly still worked at their desks. They only looked up when Gibbs said, "Time to go home. Zero eight hundred in the morning."

He went to his own desk, locked a couple of papers in it, collected his creds, badge and weapon, and stood in front of Molly's desk with his hand extended. "Wanna go get something to eat?"

* * *

For a moment, she could only stare at the big hand in front of her. Could she really go and pretend nothing was wrong? Maybe they needed a frank talk – but she really didn't think she could manage that right now. Her heart was shattering and falling pieces of shard were stabbing her mercilessly. No, she needed to go home.

"Jethro, I – don't really feel hungry if you'll give me a rain check... I'll – see you tomorrow."

With that she cleared her desk, gathered her things and left with the magnificent shepherd who was with her every minute of the day and night. She took Roger for a walk after she parked her Jeep in front of the apartment, then went upstairs for a long unhappy night.

* * *

Apparently it had been a wretched night for everyone if the dark circles under their eyes meant anything. They hadn't even gotten settled at their desks when they got the first call. The case was handled routinely, everyone focused on finding the person who had killed this young sailor.

Late into the night, they located and eliminated possible suspects one by one, the following morning, Tony and Molly were dispatched to interview a primary person of interest. They returned with a former shipmate of the sailor who eventually confessed to the murder.

Paperwork on that one was not completed before they were called out to locate the missing wife of a deployed marine. They talked every night at a certain time but the distraught marine hadn't been able to make contact with her, finally convincing his CO to contact NCIS.

Neighbors knew nothing. Coworkers at the office where she worked knew nothing. The inside of her modest home was spotless and orderly; clearly nothing had transpired there. Bank records showed nothing out of the ordinary. The only calls missed on her answering machine were two from a mechanic telling her that her car was ready.

A chat with the mechanic revealed nothing except that he had been anxious to get the car back to her as soon as he could so she wouldn't have to make the two bus changes required to get from to and from work any longer than necessary.

An interview with the morning bus drivers revealed nothing. With so many people going to work at that time of day, no one even remembered her.

The afternoon drivers were more helpful. One recalled her and the fact that he had wondered if she was sick; she just didn't look well at all. The driver on the second segment of her route home did remember her. She got off only shortly after she had boarded and looked as if she was really, really sick. He had been concerned about her.

Then, working in teams of two, they began making the rounds of area hospitals and finally located her in a surgical ward where she was beginning to recover from a burst appendix.

Relieved to have found her, Gibbs called the marine's CO and filled him in, giving the phone number of the nurses' desk where she was being cared for.

A good resolution for a change.

But there still hadn't been an opportunity for Gibbs to talk privately with Molly. Case after case. Everybody worked hard, doing what they did best, solving each one, some faster than others but solving them nevertheless.

After two weeks of non-stop work, they were cleared for a weekend off at last. Since the weather forecast was excellent, Molly and Tim decided it was time for Tim to make another long cross-country trip. They were still talking about it as they left that Friday evening, agreeing to meet for supper to talk about it some more.

Silently, Gibbs listened and watched as he slowly began to shut down his computer and clear his desk.

Tony stood by his desk. "Wanta get something to eat, Boss? My treat!"

Gibbs glanced up at his SFA with something of a smile, "'Preciate it, DiNozzo. Think I'll go home and work on the boat some more."

"You have all weekend to do that."

"Yeah."

"Still don't wanta come? It's not often I buy, ya know."

"Thanks, DiNozzo. Another time."

"Okay, Boss. 'Night."

* * *

Instead of leaving, Tony went down to Autopsy to see if Ducky was still around. Working in his office on ever-present paperwork, the doctor welcomed Tony and offered him a cup of his wonderful tea.

As they sat sipping in the quiet of the early evening, the conversation quickly turned to the problem of Gibbs and Molly.

"Ducky, they love each other – that's plain to see – but they can't seem to get it together. The Boss is about to lose his mind. Molly is still Molly but it's hard to see such unhappiness in her eyes. I just don't know what to do. Any ideas?"

The blue eyes of most highly esteemed ME developed a distinct twinkle. "Now that you mention it, dear boy, I think I just may have a solution. Be worth a try in any case."

"Need any help with it?"

"Thank you, but no, my lad. I believe I am quite capable to handle this one but if I find the need, I'll certainly call on you. Let's just hope that it is successful!"

Tony went home, ate, watched movies then had a great weekend.

Dr. Mallard went home and began to plot the mission that he hoped would solve the problem between his dear friends. He went to sleep that night with a smile, quite pleased with himself for the plans he had in mind.

* * *

Leaving early Saturday morning, Tim and Molly flew from Charlie's home airport in Anacostia to Roanoke, Virginia, then to Raleigh-Durham, North Carolina where they spent the night. Very early Sunday morning, they flew from RDU to Richmond, Virginia, then back to Anacostia.

They were tired but happy. It was Tim's first multi-leg cross-country and he could hardly wait to do another one.

They got a bite to eat, then Tim dropped Molly off at her apartment where Roger greeted her as if she had been gone a week. Mr. Jenkins loved having Roger with him and was always eager to accept an opportunity to have him.

Mr Jenkins' property included a nice-sized back yard that was fenced all the way around with six-foot tall privacy fencing. Two enormous old trees spread their branches in a wide embrace to provide cooling shade in the summer and helped protect the house from cold wind in winter.

The old marine took Roger out there and threw a ball for him by the hour. Both loved it. Mr. Jenkins joked that by next season, he'd be ready to try out for the Nationals, maybe get a pitching spot.

* * *

Friday evening, Gibbs had gone to his favorite diner to get something, only to bump into Rachel Cranston who had apparently arrived just before him. She invited him to share a table and he was glad to have her company, not especially wanting to eat alone.

Dr. Cranston had a busy psychology practice but loved working with the people from NCIS, especially Gibbs and his team. They were a study all to themselves and she loved the challenge each one presented to her, none more than the tall man now seated across from her.

"How have you been, Gibbs?"

With a quick shrug, tip of his head and a single raising of his brows, he said, "Okay."

Rachel smiled. It would be easier to pull hens' teeth than to get a straight answer out of this man.

"Work going well?"

"Yeah. Busy."

"How's Molly? She still doing okay after all that happened to her?"

Gibbs' blue eyes snapped to Rachel's which she didn't miss, then he told her, "Doing pretty good. Still has nightmares sometimes, but she won't talk about it."

"Hmm. Think I should talk to her again? She seemed to be making good progress although there was something she was holding back on. Refused to talk about it. She said it was personal and had nothing to do with anything that had happened to her. You know anything about that?"

"I don't know if she'll talk to you or not; she's not talking to me."

Rachel stopped a moment, then asked quietly, "Why not?"

Gibbs couldn't think how to answer. He hadn't even intended for that last part to slip out. "My fault."

"What is your fault?"

Gibbs squinted his eyes a little as he asked, "This a shrink session, Rachel, or just dinner?"

Rachel laughed the same way Kate used to. "Just dinner, Gibbs, but you know me. Once a hound gets the scent of something, he doesn't want to let it go. But, having said that, you can talk to me anytime you want to, Gibbs. You know that. Is there anything I might be able to help you with?"

Gibbs studied his plate as he wondered, ' _Could she?'_

"Nah, probably not, doc. I messed up, I gotta fix it."

Rachel studied his face. Nothing really showed with him until she had mentioned Molly. Clearly there was something important to him there.

She told him softly, "You know, Gibbs, if you really,  _really_  want something bad enough, you'll do what you have to in order to have it. Even if that may be talking to a friend. Think about it and call me. You have my number."

Later, sipping a cup of his own personal blend of strong Colombian coffee, Gibbs thought hard about Rachel's words. He just couldn't quite decide what to do about it, though.

* * *

Late Sunday afternoon, Ducky stopped by Molly's apartment and she welcomed him in with a big hug. Her delight at seeing him was obvious.

Looking around, he commented, "Oh, I must say, Molly, this is a  _most_  lovely place you have here! What an absolutely marvelous home! It's like the perfect setting for a precious jewel."

Looking out the many windows to see all the beautifully leafed-out trees just outside, he commented, "You have your own special tree house! I am quite envious, my dear! I'm happy you've made such a wonderful home for yourself."

Molly was  _so_  glad that she had indulged in the purchase of a real English tea set and could offer his favorite Earl Grey to him, properly prepared and served. Ducky's blue eyes had sparkled with appreciation when he saw what she had.

A little shyly, she admitted with a beautiful Molly-smile, "I wanted to be able to offer you a proper tea when you came to visit."

"My dear, you are so very thoughtful. This reminds me of a time when I was London..." and he launched into one of the tales that she found so entertaining and interesting. One could learn a lot just by listening to the Medical Examiner. She and Jimmy were two of the very few who could listen without their eyes glazing over.

As she was pouring a second cup for each of them, Ducky said, "Even though I did come visit for yourself only, I do have a question I would like to ask."

"Of course, Ducky."

"Molly, I have a good friend I would like _very_  much for you to meet, in my company, of course. He's really quite a nice chap when you get to know him and I think you might enjoy his company. Naturally, I will be serving as chaperone. What do you say?"

Molly hardly knew how to respond. She definitely did  _not_  want to 'meet' anyone but she couldn't bear to hurt this kind, gentle man's feelings. Well, if it took one evening of her time to please the older man, she'd gladly do it.

"Ducky, I - don't want to meet anyone, but I'll be very happy to spend an evenin' in your company with your friend if we don't have a case. I do hope you aren't countin' on a successful match to come out of this."

"Oh, my dear, I will look forward to being in your gracious company anywhere at any time. However, I do have high hopes for this," he smiled charmingly as those blue eyes sparkled and he patted her hand. "If it meets with your approval, I'll come for you at seven this coming Friday evening. We'll meet my friend at one of my favorite restaurants and I shall introduce the two of you."

Molly agreed. "What dress, Ducky?"

"Dear Molly, anything you would ever wear should be quite happy to be in your wardrobe as you can only make it more beautiful than it could ever be on its own! However, I think it would likely be termed 'dressy but not formal' today, if that's any help."

With a delightful laugh, she responded, "Ducky, I do believe you have kissed the Blarney Stone somewhere in your many travels, but I love to hear it just the same! I'm lookin' forward to it, kind sir. Thank you for askin' me."

* * *

~ Continued ~

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Carolina Connection Series: Book 1, part 1: BEGINNINGS  
> The Carolina Connection Series: Book 1, part 2: VENDETTA  
> The Carolina Connection Series: Book 1, part 3: REPRISAL  
> The Carolina Connection Series: Book 2 part 1: LIFE - CHANGE

* * *

 

Molly was nervous in spite of herself all day Friday. She tried to calm herself by thinking,  _'Well, it's just a very nice evenin' out with Ducky and we'll have a marvelous meal then we'll all go home - and that will be that.'  
_

It was still only around five in the afternoon but she was relieved when Gibbs told them to go home early. This was a weekend off of rotation for them and all three of them were looking forward to it. They had done a lot of really good work and had closed a lot of cases.

At home, Molly took a shower, washed her hair and took her time dressing in a pretty soft yellow dress with spaghetti straps and a nice full skirt that floated around her, ending a few inches above her knees.

Not being what is thought of as a 'typical' woman, she owned only a few pairs of shoes, but she selected a pair with a modest two inch heel that went with it quite well.

She decided that she'd carry only a pale clutch. Her creds, badge and Sig would fit in fine as she would have only a small wallet and a tube of lip gloss which was the only makeup she ever wore. Her long dark lashes required no assistance to draw attention to those soft brown eyes. She didn't always go armed when off-duty but felt more secure when she did.

Then she stopped.  _'I'm goin'_ _armed_ _to a dinner with Ducky and his friend?'_  She laughed at herself. But she was still going to take it.

Ducky tapped on her door promptly at seven and complimented on her appearance lavishly. "Ducky, you have to be the kindest man on the planet. Thank you!"

"Oh, not the kindest by far, but certainly the most truthful!"

Roger was not happy to be left at home but Molly knew that Ducky's fabulous Morgan was limited on space and Roger was a big dog. She wasn't interested in having her dress ruined by having him sit in her lap. She hid a snicker at herself; going armed and with a fierce guard dog? Just a  _little_  over the top maybe? She had no idea who Ducky's friend was but he'd probably run for the hills if she did.

The drive to the restaurant was filled with pleasant chatter and Ducky pulled the vintage car into a space close to one of the best restaurants in Washington, The Old Ebbitt Grill, established in 1856. It was the place where presidents came to eat. The elite in the city dined here. The food, atmosphere and service could not be surpassed, as evidenced by its 5-star rating.

"Oh, Ducky! I've wanted to come here ever since I arrived in DC but have never done it. Thank you so very much! This truly is a special treat!"

"You are most welcome, my dear. It gives me great pleasure to be the one to bring you here! I hope you'll enjoy your meal. Let's go inside, shall we?"

Inside, the restaurant had the most wonderful old-world feel with its beamed ceilings, half-walls of dark mahogany with pale cream/yellow walls above them. Many gold appointments filled empty spaces that softly shone in the muted lighting.

The walls were covered with such beautiful and interesting art and murals. Molly barely breathed as she took it all in. "Ducky, this is so amazin'!" she whispered.

He just smiled as he gallantly led her to a stunning table that had been reserved for the evening. It occupied a more private alcove and the setting was like a photo people stared at and wished they could be in.

A waiter in an immaculate white shirt and formal black bowtie smiled and helped Molly with her chair which looked as if it belonged in a castle somewhere.

Ducky so pleased to see Molly's eyes shining as she took in the unsurpassable ambiance of this place. The waiter offered her a little of the chilled wine that Ducky had selected earlier in the week when he had visited the establishment and made arrangements for this dinner. He had high hopes for a successful evening.

The wine was light and delicate, just gently teasing the palate. "Oh, my! This is fabulous, Ducky. Such a light taste."

"I'm glad it suits you, my dear. I have enjoyed this wine since I first made its acquaintance just shortly after I returned to Edinburgh after I finished my studies at the Medical College there. It had been quite a successful visit and I was up for a small celebration. A friend introduced it to me and it has been one of my favorites ever since."

* * *

Gibbs had had a visit from Ducky earlier in the week with an invitation to dinner where he'd be introduced to "the loveliest lady on the planet Earth."

Like Molly, he had strong feelings against 'meeting someone' but the old gentleman seemed so enthused about his plans he'd feel rotten if he turned him down - although he felt like running as fast as he could – which was what his head was screaming at him even as he accepted the invitation. And no amount of questioning would get any more information out of the ME.

So, on Friday evening, reluctantly showering and dressing, Gibbs decided he'd go have a bite with Ducky and excuse himself at the earliest moment possible.

And what the hell does "dressy but not formal" mean, anyway? He stood before his closet and stared at his clothing. Not formal meant he could rule out the tux right away. Dressy didn't seem to be a description for his normal wear. So what did that leave?

He dug through the closet until he found a dark navy blue suit he had forgotten about. Okay, white shirt, dark tie and he was done.

In a moment of rebellion, he decided to drive his truck. The fates must have been in collusion with him, because just as he drove up to the place, a car that had been parked right in front of the fancy double doors pulled out and Jethro wore a satisfied half-grin on his face as he pulled into it. Rebellious streak still in gear, he decided that if he wasn't good enough for this establishment, they could throw him out and he'd be able to go back home with a clear conscience. Problem solved.

He had heard about this place. Supposed to be the best of the best, a place where Presidents and rich people came. Hmph. He'd bet it wasn't as good as the steaks he grilled in his fireplace! Well, he'd get this over with as soon as he could, leaving at the first opportunity.

Instead of throwing him out, a smiling, tuxedoed maitre d' effusively welcomed him with a small bow, then escorted him to Dr. Mallard's table. Gibbs walked the last few feet to the table alone but stopped dead in his tracks as his eyes took in an angel with soft dark shining hair, wearing a prettiest yellow dress he'd ever seen. ' _ _What the hell is Duck up to?'__ _  
_

When Molly turned to see who was joining them, her beautiful face showed shock and surprise, but he couldn't read her eyes.

Ducky stood and extended a hand to Gibbs, saying, "Welcome, my friend! It is a pleasure to see you! Molly, I'm so happy to introduce you to my good friend, Jethro Gibbs. Jethro, it is my _great_  pleasure to introduce you to the loveliest lady in the land, Miss Molly Marie MacKenzie. What a pleasure to have you both with me for a delightful meal. A most treasured day for me, I assure you. Thank you both for accepting my invitation."

Gibbs was at a loss of what to do. Was he supposed to shake her hand or what? Molly sat frozen in place staring at his face. Jethro couldn't help wondering what she was thinking.

Thank goodness Ducky raised his glass to propose a toast. "To good friends and good things yet to come!"

They raised their glasses and took a sip of the delightful white wine. Molly decided she was going to find out the name of it and keep some at home. She  _loved_  the taste of it. She'd learn later that it was one of the fine Chenin Blanc wines that had gained her enthusiastic approval.

Ducky sat a little straighter and said in his inimitable accent and manner, "Now. What I propose is that I serve as chaperone for the two of you and remain in that position until the two of you decide that you are comfortable being with each other without my presence. It is a most honorable tradition to find one's way when the path has become strewn with rocks and obstacles."

"In any case, I will chaperone any time or place you like outside of work, however, you must not make plans without consulting with me. Those are the rules. Why don't we meet in a more informal setting next time - at a comfortable pub, perhaps? I am acquainted with several excellent establishes if you'll allow me to make arrangements."

Molly looked Gibbs with uncertainty on her face. She simply could not say no to the beloved doctor. It would be unforgivably rude.

Gibbs looked at her still not knowing what he was supposed to do.  _'Duck should have given me a guide book before throwing me into the deep end of the pool like this.'_

Both of them wound up just nodding their acquiescence to Ducky's plans, not really following his full purpose at that point, but were very reluctant to hurt his feelings. Gibbs felt like an awkward twelve-year-old at an affair of some kind where the boys were expected to ask girls to dance.

Ducky mostly carried the conversation and he did it so effortlessly. The man was a born host, making everything relaxing and pleasant for his guests.

Dishes of the finest cuisine anywhere in the world were served. Light hors-d'oeuvres that were enticing yet not filling.

A wonderful crisp, cold salad, beautifully arranged, with a magnificent house dressing was followed by an indescribable filet mignon, served with utter perfection, that seemed to almost melt in their mouths. Even Gibbs seemed impressed.

After the main course, waiters served the most fabulous tiramisu that has ever existed. The rich liqueurs in combination with the light sweet creams were pure heaven.

For the end of the meal, port (which Molly most definitely did  _not_  care for) and rich, flavorful coffee were served. Molly shot a quick glance in Gibbs' direction to get his verdict on the coffee and he seemed to find it acceptable – or at least he was polite enough to drink it.

All in all, Ducky counted it a very successful evening. At least nothing had been thrown and both parties went home in the same good condition in which they had arrived.

Molly was sincere and enthusiastic in her thanks. "Ducky, there aren't enough words to tell you how much I enjoyed this evenin'! I will remember that filet and tiramisu the rest of my life. You are such a gracious and thoughtful host; everything was  _perfect!_  Thank you a million times for invitin' me!"

Ducky so was pleased he could feel his head swelling - especially since neither party objected to a future meeting. He drove home in his Morgan, hat tilted at a jaunty angle, a happy smile on his face as he smugly patted himself on the back for hatching such a marvelous plan.

Later that night after dinner, tucked into bed, Molly thought back over the evening. She had to smile at Ducky's plans for all this. Heaven only knows what the tab would be for a dinner like they had had but the older man seemed totally delighted with himself.

She almost laughed again as she remembered one of her first encounters with Ducky when she joined NCIS. He said that he was especially appreciative of her presence because he was no longer the shortest member of the team. She loved his droll comments.

Then her thoughts turned to Gibbs. When he first appeared at the table, she was so stunned it was impossible for her to speak and he seemed equally surprised.

She'd like to know how Ducky got him to agree to even come to dinner! Her heart had almost melted the first time he smiled that little crooked half-smile. And that little bit of hair that wanted to fall towards his forehead. She squeezed her eyes shut.  _'_ _ _Ducky, what have you done?'__

The man who could buckle her knees with one look, one little half-smile, one touch of his hand and he had to be Ducky's mystery guest.  _'_ _ _The good doctor is a sly old fox!'__

Should she even continue in this little charade? Yes, Jethro liked her well enough but she didn't think he would ever regard her as anything more than a great friend and a good agent. But she loved him with every cell of her body and wish more than anything in the world that she could tell him and he reciprocated. That was a very sad daydream.

There was one moment when she thought she saw something in Gibbs' eyes that seemed to say he missed her. There almost seemed to be - desire for her? Surely that was her own imagination.

What would be the outcome of Ducky's schemes?

* * *

In the Gibbs home, the former marine loosened his tie and opened the top button of his shirt before hanging his jacket. Changing into soft sleeping clothes, he decided that a last cup of coffee was what he needed.

As he waited for the machine to finish gurgling, his mind kept going back to Molly. She looked too beautiful to be real even though her light fragrance tantalized his nose and made him want to draw closer to enjoy its scent all the more.

And those brown eyes. He nearly lost control of himself several times when he felt those three words right on the tip of his tongue but he knew he couldn't say them.

She could melt his heart with one glance with those amazingly soft eyes. In that moment he decided that he was going to stay with Ducky's unusual proposal. Maybe these words would manage to slip out. Maybe Molly would accept them at some point.

He had looked at her small hands. They always looked so delicate and gentle. But those same hands could easily handle any number of powerful weapons with professional expertise. He smiled as he envisioned her stopping that overheated Prince in his tracks at the pool as he sailed over her head.

He finished this cup of 175 proof coffee and got more as his mind continued its reminiscence of the woman who was his world even though she didn't know it. He ached inside. He wanted her here now! But maybe this chaperon business would allow him to finally say what he wanted to say. He was very unhappy being here alone without her.

He knew that his concern over his terrible track record was playing a part in his mind. And his concern about their age difference. He was eighteen years older than she. It didn't seem to matter now – but what about later? Ten, fifteen, twenty years from now? These are the thoughts that bedeviled him and wouldn't let go.

Rachel Cranston's words constantly came back to him, 'If you really,  _really_  want something, you'll do what you have to in order to have it' Oh, yes, he knew what he wanted, but wanting and doing were two different things.

The next day a bottle of the perfect white wine was delivered to Molly's apartment with one red rose. The card was simple: "Jethro"

There aren't words to describe how that made her feel. She could only clutch it tightly and hug it to herself until the magnitude of her emotions slowly subsided.

* * *

It was a little strange at work. Gibbs was the boss and Molly was one of his agents. On Friday nights, he was Jethro and she was Molly. Almost like living in two worlds. Neither had said anything to anyone about Ducky's maneuvering or their chaperoned dates.

Time went by as Ducky, captain of his very own love boat, kept everything on course. They had had dinner at a terrific Italian restaurant, a catered picnic in a park, they had attended the premiere of an opera followed by a late night snack at an Irish pub.

Gibbs had survived them all ( _ _but, please! no more opera!__ ) and was actually interested to see what the old boy had planned for this evening. Again it was that 'Dressy-not formal' stuff. Or was it 'Not formal-dressy'? Whatever.

He was much more at ease with Molly's beautiful presence now and she appeared to be more relaxed as well. It was a surprise for him to realize that he was looking forward to these weekly dates. Especially when somebody else made all the arrangements; all he had to do was show up and enjoy himself.

Molly privately shared many of Jethro's thoughts and feelings. She also took notice of the kind, still-quite-attractive face of the mastermind of this series of arranged meetings with Jethro. The doctor's blue eyes seemed to sparkle all the time and a smile rarely left his mouth. He was in his element!

When Ducky first invited her to dinner, she decided that she needed to expand her wardrobe a bit so she had treated herself to several new dresses that were modest enough (she hoped) but had a dash of sassiness about them, a little panache. Tonight she selected the new  _black_  dress that she had debated over before she bought it.

Too short? Not - -  _reallllly?_  The flared skirt was created out of layers and layers of soft tulle that stood out yet softly flowed around her, stopping maybe six (seven?) inches above her knees. It was quite flattering, making her legs look long and sleek.

Delicate beading made the dress seem to sparkle as if was touched by some kind of fairy dust. Too much skin showing? Well, nothing that should be a problem, just her arms, one shoulder and part of her back. That should be acceptable. Paired with those new strappy black heels it should work quite well. Okay. Decision made.

When Ducky came to pick her up, he gushed over her appearance. "Oh, my dear Molly! You  _defy_  description tonight! There aren't enough words to do you justice!"

With a grin and sparkles in his eyes, he said in a low conspiratorial tone of voice as he leaned a little closer, "I can't wait for our dinner companion to see you!" His eyebrows even waggled a time or two.

Ducky's choice tonight was an elegant restaurant that featured incredible food and an excellent house band for those who wished to take advantage of a sizable dance floor. It was a lovely place inside that combined touches of ancient Greece, tall columns that appeared to have been lifted from their original place and magically transported here, with greenery and lighting that created a wonderful soft ambience that hinted at a touch of mystery.

As was his custom, Ducky had made all the arrangements ahead of time and his reserved table was placed in a way that gave them a bit of privacy simply by the placement of the small lush trees and other potted greenery. Subdued up-lighting somehow gave it all a hint of sensuality that quietly seeped into your subconscious without you being aware of it.

Jethro was already there when Ducky and Molly arrived. Ducky was right about Gibbs' reaction to her. He stood unmoving for a second before blinking and somehow holding out a hand to her. Molly accepted it without even realizing it as she was captured by his face. He stepped over and held her chair for her, then leaned down to say softly in her ear, "You are so beautiful, Molly."

The sound of that low voice so soft and close and the feel of his warm breath on her ear and neck made her breath catch. She thought, _ _'It's a darned good thing I'm sittin' down!'__  She recovered enough to thank him with a shy smile. An observant Ducky could have done cartwheels.

Dinner was superb as it always was. Ducky had incomparable taste and an uncanny knack for carrying everything off with a special flair. His upbringing and many experiences in life had prepared him well. Such true gentlemen are so very, very rare.

The musicians were playing enjoyable music from some years in the past that was both soothing and pleasing at the same time. In the break between the main course and dessert, Ducky looked at them saying, "Such lovely music. Jethro, it is a shame to let this wonderful opportunity to dance with this most stunning young lady pass you by."

With such a heavy hint, Jethro really had no choice but to extend his hand to Molly and ask, "May I have this dance?"

And Molly had no choice but to accept, even though she shot a very fast look at their host as Jethro helped her with her chair. Ducky didn't seem affected at all, still beaming with those bright blue eyes sparkling to the max. If he had been a rooster, he'd have his neck stretched out, wings spread, crowing with all his might.

Both of Ducky's guests were a little nervous at first, but they talked a bit during the first dance, getting rid of their jitters, and seemed to enjoy it from then on. Jethro was still holding himself in check. His reactions to having her in his arms as they slowly danced was almost enough to push him over the edge. Her warmth next to him and that sweet fragrance filling his nose, he wanted to press her close and never let go.

After a light dessert and coffee, the evening drew to an end. Molly was quiet on the ride back to her apartment; she had a lot to think about. Ducky walked her up to her apartment as always but declined to come in because he had plans for an early morning.

Jethro thought hard during his drive home, as well. He couldn't waste a lot of time. He was getting older. Only a few more years before he had to give up field work. He personally felt that fifty-five was too young for mandatory field retirement but nobody had bothered to ask him. He'd made up his mind that he wouldn't say anything about it and just stay until they ran him off. Too many damn rules anyway!

* * *

Over dessert after their next chaperoned date, Ducky told them, "I do believe the two of you have progressed to the point now that I believe you should try an evening on your own. I'll be happy to step back in at any time either of you would like for me to. Does that meet with your approval?"

Jethro and Molly looked at each other as small smiles appeared on their faces. Yes, they'd give it go on their own and see how it would go.

* * *

Thinking about the upcoming date, Jethro got up his nerve and called Tony. "DiNozzo, whataya got on this courting deal?"

The Senior Field Agent said, "Well, what have you done so far?"

"Nothing. Just been on those chaperoned things with Ducky."

"What has Ducky done?"

Gibbs explained succinctly but Tony got the idea.

"Send her flowers. Not necessarily the biggest or most expensive but something that is important to her."

Silence.

"Boss?"

"What kind of flower is that?"

"I don't know. Ask Ducky. He can probably tell you. He's a slick rascal, isn't he? Didn't know about the op he was running. Way to go, Duckman! Question: have you kissed her yet, Boss?"

"No! A little early for that, DiNozzo!"

"Boss, it's been three years! It is not 'too early', trust me!"

"Gonna call Duck."

Click.

Tony started to chuckle which morphed into a good belly laugh. Wiping his eyes, he tried to get himself under control and shook his head. He got up and headed for Autopsy.

Gibbs immediately called Dr. Mallard. "Duck, what kind of flowers do I have to send? DiNozzo says it needs to be something that is important to her."

Ducky chuckled. "Dear boy, just select something you think she might like - a color, a shape, a scent. Any of those would be well appreciated. And, another tip is that this is a time when less is more. Such as one perfect rose, or a trio of one kind. Just so it is personal from you to her."

Silence.

"Jethro?"

"Thinking, Ducky. Guess somebody at a florist's shop can tell me. Thanks, Duck."

Click.

Off to find a shop, he stopped at the first one he found, a place called Elegant Florists. Big glass front displaying arrangements of about anything you could think of. A lot of stuff, but that wasn't much help either.

Taking a deep breath, he opened the door and a young woman behind the counter looked up from the customer she was helping and smiled. "Be right with you, sir!" she chirped.

Gibbs growled to himself and started looking at things in the shop. This flower thing was a lot harder than he would have thought. Now that he thought about it, he had never sent flowers to anyone before.

In only a few moments, the sales girl, Sharon according to her nametag, appeared at his elbow with a big smile. "How may I help you, sir?"

Out of habit, Gibbs muttered, "Don't call me sir."

A little startled and nonplused, she said, "Uhhhhh, yes si - okay. What are you looking for?"

"Gotta send flowers or something to somebody."

With a very small sigh, Sharon recharged her smile and asked brightly, "Is it a special occasion?"

"Not sure. Haven't sent any before."

"Birthday? Best wishes? Umm, anniversary?"

Gibbs sighed. Couldn't he just skip this part? "I'm supposed to send flowers. We've had several chaperoned dates that were set up, but now I'm supposed to take her out myself and DiNozzo said the flowers have to mean something to her."

"Oh, so you've just met her then."

"No, we lived together for around two years or so, but she moved out."

After a long, long look at him, another small sigh escaped from her. Wouldn't she looove to know the details of  _this_! Finally she asked, "Why don't we just look around a bit and see if anything catches your eye?"

Making a slow circuit of the large showroom, Sharon patiently explained what the different flowers were, what they meant, and so on. There were a lot of pretty flowers but nothing looked special. Then he spotted an oblong copper planter about a foot long, six inches deep, that held an array of pretty green plants - one type looked something like some kind of palm tree and other stuff he couldn't identify.

"What's this?"

Sharon explained and mentioned that these plants would continue to live given the proper care whereas flowers had a relatively short life after being cut.

The more Gibbs looked at it, the more he liked it. Something permanent. Wonder if Molly would pick up on that?

"Okay. This one."

"I know she'll just love it! Quite a good selection, I think. A bit out of the ordinary, but quite unique."

Then came the ordeal of what to put on the card. "Why don't I just sign it?"

"Great!" Never would Sharon argue.

"We can have it delivered either this afternoon or tomorrow. What is the address?"

Silence. He knew where it was but didn't know the exact address.

"DiNozzo, what is Molly's address? You don't?"

Click.

"Duck, what is Molly's address? No, I got a pot-looking thing with some green stuff in it. It won't die."

Gibbs walked out of the florist shop greatly relieved. He'd done it!

Sharon watched as the tall man strode from the shop, chuckled and shook her head. She'd  _ _really__  like to know the story behind this! Maybe he'd come in again.

* * *

Gibbs' sense of accomplishment was short-lived when it occurred to him that he had to plan out this next date by himself.

"Duck, ya got a minute?"

* * *

~ Continued ~

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Carolina Connection Series: Book 1, part 1: BEGINNINGS  
> The Carolina Connection Series: Book 1, part 2: VENDETTA  
> The Carolina Connection Series: Book 1, part 3: REPRISAL  
> The Carolina Connection Series: Book 2 part 1: LIFE - CHANGE
> 
> (Adult situation towards the end. If this offends you, please be forewarned.)

* * *

 

If Sharon at Elegant Florists thought she had had a difficult time, she should have met the maitre d' at the restaurant where Gibbs planned to take Molly.

It was a gracious 5-star establishment with a nice band and a mid-sized dance floor. The decor was intimate and relaxing.

He already knew what he wanted but trying to convince the maitre d' of that was another problem. When all else fails, use The Stare. The guy got the message soon enough and made himself content to record the instructions given by the guest.

Gibbs found that he liked Ducky's method of taking care of all details first, right on down to taking care of the bill so the evening itself was free to flow without interruptions.

He left with a self-satisfied smile on his lips.

On Friday, knowing that they were going on their first official 'solo' date, Gibbs let Molly go early. Gibbs found himself living for these weekend dates with her. It occupied his mind so much that he sometimes forgot to yell at people.

Molly had discovered that she like the idea of dressing in what she called her 'girl clothes', those dresses with flirty little skirts especially. Heretofore, her wardrobe had consisted of jeans, slacks, any old top and a jacket because that is mainly what her work had required.

When she started at NCIS, she bought a few pieces that were of better quality in line with what she felt was expected in a government workplace, but were still in the pants-top-jacket-and boots category. Dresses on a field agent just wouldn't work. Who ever knew when a chase or climbing up or down something would be required?

She stood in her closet trying to decide on which dress to wear, finally selecting a dress in a pale celery green with a skirt of layers upon layers of soft flowing organza. Tiny beading on the organza overlay of the bodice made it seem to shimmer as the faceted beads caught light from every angle.

This dress was a little more daring from Molly's standpoint because the bodice stopped  _short_  of the top of the bustline so more than just a bit of cleavage was visible through the overlay and she felt deliciously wanton about it.

Gibbs arrived at Molly's apartment a good fifteen minutes early. He could see Roger's head and alert ears as he looked out at the world from his high vantage point through the three windows across the apartment's front.

Okay. It's time. Gibbs adjusted his tie as he approached the door. Inside, he climbed the stairs and stood at her door a moment, quietening the butterflies fluttering in his stomach. He briefly closed his eyes.  _'How can a man my age be so nervous about a date?'_  A last deep breath and he tapped on the door.

When Molly opened the door, his mouth was suddenly so dry he didn't think he could even speak. For a long moment, they stood just staring at each other.

Inviting him in, Molly was a gracious hostess offering him something to drink.

"Water," Gibbs muttered.

While she was gone, he looked around the room he missed. Soft happy colors, comfortable furniture covered with a surprisingly pretty sunflower patterned material, the room and the furniture seemed to be made for each other. It was nice and mellow. Charming - though that is not a word native to Gibbs' vocabulary - it's what he meant.

The little touches that Molly had added were uniquely Molly and just right for their placement. And, he was happy to see that the oval copper pot of greenery fit perfectly on a small table between two side windows.

Seeing the apartment made him want to do some major renovations in his house. He could do the majority of it himself, if not all of it. He really liked the layout of this particular room. He decided to fiddle with some drawings and see what he could come up with.

When she returned, Molly invited him to sit while he drank. She thanked him for the lovely planter, as she called it.

Every time he saw her, he thought that she was at her most beautiful - until he saw her the next time. He had no idea what anything on the dress would be called, but the overall effect was devastating. She looked light, elegant and lithe. Perfection.

At the restaurant, they were shown to Gibbs' private table which was in the exact setting he had ordered. Soft light, candles, lots of lush green plants almost surrounding them, really nice background music playing. He helped Molly with her chair and took his seat across from her.

"You look real nice, Molly. Pretty dress."

Molly smiled. "Thank you. I think I'm just learnin' how to dress like a girl. It's - kinda fun! Not a lot of call for dresses like this, but I like them very much."

Gibbs liked the short length of the skirt which showed off a length of smooth shapely leg. In fact, he liked it a lot. His eyes had not missed the lovely sight revealed by the top, either.

Hors d'oeuvres were served with the white wine that Molly loved. Gibbs had been adamant that the beginning of the meal would be simple, though the maitre d' just knew that such sacrilege would bring some huge disaster down on them all.

To Molly, it was perfect. Gibbs sighed and let himself relax. He was so glad he had won the war with the maitre'd on the simplicity of the course.

More wine was served with the main course at which Molly gasped with delight when she saw that it was fresh seafood prepared exactly as Sylvia's cooks did. It was a meal from home.

"Oh, thank you, Jethro! This is so thoughtful. I've really missed food like this."

Gibbs sort of half-smiled and tipped his head to one side for a moment.

Smiling, Molly asked, "Where did you learn to talk with just your face?"

His face took on a slight pink look as he ducked his head a little and moved his mouth in a certain way.

She giggled, "Can you put that into English, please?"

Gibbs had to laugh. Molly never settled for the surface of anything. The investigator in her always wanted get down to the heart of the matter, whatever it might be.

He murmured a quiet, "Don't think so. Never got much used to talking with people. You and Ducky are about the only ones I can really talk with. Wonder why?"

Molly smiled, answering softly, "I don't know, Jethro. But I always enjoyed talkin' with you. It was always so comfortable and uncomplicated."

"Would you like that again?"

"Very much." Molly studied that fascinating face a moment before she added, "Yes, I would like it very much."

Gibbs nodded. "I owe you an apology, Molly. You didn't deserve that garbage I threw at you at the office. I apologize."

Molly's eyes seemed to look into his soul. She replied very, very softly, "Thank you, Jethro." Jethro never apologized...

Both were quiet for several minutes before Gibbs said almost in a whisper, "I miss you."

Molly took a deep breath. She wanted to reach out and touch the side of his handsome face but corralled it before it escaped. "I've - missed you, too, Jethro."

When dessert was served, Molly was thrilled! Tiramisu! She had to laugh a little. "Was I that obvious that night?"

Gibbs grinned. "Yeah. Good cake."

"Sinfully delicious is what it is!"

A moment later, head tipped a little to one side, Molly said with sincerity, "Thank you, Jethro. This has been perfect and I appreciate what you've done."

Gibbs just stared into her eyes, a look of deep longing in his. Molly thought she had misread his face; usually she could tell what he was thinking.

Gibbs sat back in his chair a moment, then realizing that the band was playing, asked, "Wanna dance?"

Molly's face lit up with that smile of hers. "Oh! Yes, I would!"

They moved to the dance floor and there was a bit of distance between them, but they moved well together. "You dance well, Jethro."

He smiled, "Surprised?"

The Molly-grin appeared. "Yeah."

It was so good to hold her as they moved to the music, his cheek resting on the side of her head. The feel of her bare skin of her back under his hand, feeling those supple muscles moving as they danced. He admitted to himself that he was inexplicably captivated by her, as if an unseen force compelled him to be with her, close to her. It began to dawn on him that this is where he belonged.

Molly wanted to stay as they were more than anything she could think of. His arms were strong and she could feel their power as he held her closely, her head and face nestled against him. The feel of that big warm calloused hand on her back.  _ _'How can I keep myself together when he makes me feel like this? I'm mush right__ _now!'_

His face was so close she could feel the warmth of his breath. If she turned her face upward, would he - NO! Don't even think about it! Molly knew she was melting - and she was in trouble. The feel of his strong hard body took her breath away. But she would not break contact with him. His magnetism held her helplessly captive.

Gibbs' senses were reeling. His heart was beating too fast for this small amount of physical exertion but would allow no space between them. Her small body was so perfect in every way. He wanted to protect her, to be with her every minute of the day and night. He wanted - to tell her. But is it still too early?  _'How am I supposed to know when it is time?'_

It was almost as if he and Molly had melded together as they danced, not caring if they were the only ones on the floor. On the stage, the band leader saw the relationship between these two people so he kept the band playing soft romantic music. He couldn't help but smile as he looked at them. He remembered what this was like.

Much later, they returned to their table and finished the wine and coffee that had been served while they were still in their own world on the dance floor. Gibbs reached across the table and held one hand as he thoughtfully looked at her, lost in whatever his thoughts were. A big thumb lightly traced slow circles on the top of her hand. Molly wanted to be with him in a big comfortable chair, curled up against him with her forehead resting against the side of his neck. Hours could pass and they'd wouldn't move.

Then a startled look ran across her face. Wait! He - liked that just like she did! He liked to snuggle up to her as much as she did him! Why hadn't she realized this before now?  _ _'Does - he - - does he -?__ _'_  She couldn't even say it.  _ _'But does he?'__

Later when Gibbs took her home and walked her up to her apartment, she asked him to come in and have another cup of coffee. He knew he should go home but he didn't want to leave her.

"I also have wine."

"Coffee's good."

"Then I'll be back in a minute."

Gibbs sat in one of the living room chairs petting Roger who was happy to be with him again. The shepherd regarded Gibbs as one of his. Not  _his human_  - there is only one of her - but one of his  _approved_  humans. There was a big difference and it was a very short list of them, though he was polite with all humans unless he was given reason to behave otherwise.

Molly returned and served Gibbs his strong special blend and brought a tea cup for herself. He took a sip of the coffee he brought from Colombia and smiled. Perfect. It was quiet in the living room. The lighting was soft which gave the room a sense of gentle peace.

After a time, Gibbs looked up at Molly and said quietly, "It's been a good night, Molly. Thanks for going with me."

She smiled a soft sincere smile. "It's been a  _wonderful_  night, Jethro. I loved every minute of it. Tell Ducky I gave you an A+."

His eyes crinkled as he smiled with a little chuckle. He stood to take his leave. As they walked slowly to the door, Gibbs turned to her putting a hand just off each shoulder and stood so close that Molly actually felt light-headed. She wanted to just tell him, ' _KISS ME!'_

So close and his eyes never left hers as both hearts thudded. Gibbs' face was intent as he said, "Molly, I - I - -"

He stepped back and closed his eyes for a second then said, "Good night, Molly. I - hope we can do this again."

Molly whispered, "I hope so, too, Jethro. Good night."

Not moving for a long moment, Gibbs at last turned and left.

Molly stood where she was for a time reliving and thinking of those last few moments. The intensity of it was literally almost overpowering.

She slowly walked to her room and took off the beautiful dress and carefully hung it in the closet. In her comfortable sleep shirt, she put the heels away, then, making a last cup of tea, she turned off the lights and went to her room.

Roger faithfully followed and settled himself on his rug. Sitting up in bed with the tea, Molly thought over each moment of the night and sighed. It had been a beautiful evening and Jethro had done an great job with it.

Gibbs was feeling good about himself and Molly. They seemed to be on the right road and he knew it would be alright. He'll be able to unstick his tongue but he wasn't sure when that would be.

At work, he was still intense, impatient and driven to find closure for distraught families but a few of his roughest edges seemed slightly smoother for some reason.

At times, Tony slipped a glance at either Gibbs or Molly and tried to hide his smile. Both were doing an admirable job of keeping themselves professional in the office except neither could hide the look in their eyes very well. He and Tim exchanged a look and a quick grin.

The day Tim underwent the very long written FAA exam, Molly was more nervous than a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs. She paced, she stood, she paced, she stared at the closed door of the testing room, she sighed, she prayed, she suffered, she wanted to scream. At the end of this first day, a worn-out, bedraggled-looking Tim opened the door and managed a very tired smile as he entered the waiting area. He had done it! Molly hugged him and cried and hugged him some more.

The next morning in the office, he was slapped on the back and congratulated. Only the flight check ride with an FAA examiner remained. That would occur the next day. He sat at his desk, his mind obviously not on NCIS. "Molly, what if I forget something? What if I don't pass? What if - "

Molly interrupted him, " _Tim!_  You know how to fly Charlie! You've learned and practiced. You know all the regs. You've done _two_  solo cross-country flights. You can recover from a stall. You can handle an engine failure on take-off. You've already done all of it."

"This time, instead of me in the back, it will be an examiner. No different if he pulls your power back on take-off than if I did it. No different if he puts Charlie into a spin or if I did it. You know how to recover from it."

"When I sign you off in your logbook after every flight, I'm making a legal statement that you have mastered whatever we did that day. And I don't sign my name unless I fully believe you to be more than just competent. You know what to do in every situation and you do it well."

"You're a  _ _pilot__ _,_  Tim!  _ _You've done it!__  And I am so  _very_  proud of you!"

Others who had overheard the exchange clapped and hooted as Tim's ears turned bright red. One more day, one more exam to pass and he will have his coveted license. Timothy McGee, Private Pilot. He couldn't stop grinning.

On a private level, Gibbs and Molly had continued their Friday night dates and Ducky had finally announced the termination of his service as chaperone.

They began to converse more easily and were regaining their comfort level with each other. One night when Gibbs brought her home, when Molly brought his now-customary cup of used motor oil to him, he had set the cup on the side table, then knelt down in front of her as he took both her hands in his.

"Molly, I have to tell you something - and I hope I'm not doing the wrong thing."

Molly's heart clutched! Oh, no! What's wrong?

Then he said in a low husky voice, "Molly MacKenzie, I - love you. I have for _so_  long but I was afraid to say anything. I hope it's alright for me to tell you now."

Molly's mouth dropped open, hardly believing her ears. Shock and surprise briefly overtaking her, she asked herself,  _'_ _ _Did I really hear that? It isn't my imagination?'__ _  
_

Gibbs waited with a sinking heart when she didn't immediately respond. But then she smiled and the world lit up. A light, totally happy laugh bubbled up from within her and she pulled her hands free of his and threw her arms around his neck. "Jethro, you can't imagine how I've  _dreamed_ of hearing you say those words! I think I must have been in love with you from almost the beginning. Yes, I love you, Jethro, with everything that's in me!"

She finally got the kiss she'd always wanted and so much more. His lips were so gentle and soft but powerful and passionate at the same time. It was nearly impossible for them to finally say goodnight but Gibbs eventually went home completely filled with so much happiness he felt like he wasn't going to be able to contain it.

The following day, a bottle of the very finest scotch was delivered to the Autopsy room. A card said, 'Thanks. Jethro and Molly"

Molly lay in her soft bed thinking, remembering, savoring the experience of those first kisses, wanting more. She didn't know what the future held for them, but it didn't really matter since they had declared themselves for each other. Smiling, she fell asleep only to awaken a little after five a.m. as someone knocked at her door.

With Roger right beside her and her Sig in her hand, she checked the security lens in the door and opened it to a smiling Gibbs who stood there with two cups of coffee in his hands.

Laughing, she pulled him into the living room and put her weapon down. He set the coffee on a side table and wrapped her in an enormous hug as she stood on her tiptoes to wrap her arms around his neck, burying his face in the side of her sleep-warm neck, then leaving a trail of kisses from there, across her face, down the other side to her neck then cut across the front of her throat.

Then he zeroed in on those sweet, luscious lips that readily welcomed him. If they hadn't needed oxygen, they'd probably still be in that kiss when they were supposed to be at work.

Gibbs' big rough thumb traced a line so very gently across her lips and up the side of her cheek. Molly knew she was going to be nothing but a puddle of mush on the floor if he didn't stop.

"Jethro... we need to stmmmm.." as his lips silenced her weak protest. "Jeth..." Only when he was momentarily content with their kisses did he cease and desist.

"You were saying?" he teased as he resumed slowly running his hands up and down her back, an evil little smile dancing around his lips.

"Oh - - I - oh! - I think - I better get - a shower. We'll be – late."

"No problem with that. I know the boss," he murmured as his lips began exploring again.

Molly was so short of breath she couldn't even respond as she held onto his tall frame for dear life. If she turned loose, she'd be in the floor because her knees had given up long ago.

He finally released her when time got terribly short. She stepped back shaking like a leaf and mumbled something about a shower. She began to walk away when he observed with a small smirk, "Like your shirt."

In shock, Molly looked down at her old sleep shirt - the real short one - and her cheeks flamed. She had forgotten about her lack of clothing and scooted from the room with a delighted deep chuckle following her down the short hall.

At the office, Molly realized that she may as well have just stayed home for all the work she was accomplishing. She caught Tony gazing at her, green eyes narrowed, head slightly tilted. She just smiled and went back to pretending that she was busy.

Sometime later, she heard Tim ask softly, "You think..?" To which Tony replied, "I think."

Molly didn't dare lookup. She was intent on looking at whatever was on her computer screen - which was exactly nothing. She had forcefully prevented herself from looking at Jethro because she'd sure as shootin' send out an All Points Bulletin to everybody in the building if she did.

She had no idea what he was doing but she just couldn't allow herself to glance at him. Finally the day ended and Molly was exhausted from the effort of trying to appear 'normal.' She closed down the computer, cleared her desk and picked up her go-bag.

When she and Roger got to the Wrangler, a single red rose rested on the driver's seat.

* * *

Gibbs knew it was time for him to make another change he had been considering for a while now. It would be the solution for Molly and him working on the same team.

He told Molly about it the evening before and she accepted it but wondered if he'd be happy being out of the field. "Who said I'll be out of the field? Probably be there about as much as I am now."

"Only if you're sure, Jethro. I know how you love it and I don't want you to have regrets. I'd rather go to somebody else's team than see you give it up before you're ready."

"Molly, I think it's time. It's time both DiNozzo and McGee moved up. I'll be happy with what I'll be doing and it will solve the problem of me trying to work when you're sitting only a few feet from me. I don't think I'm strong enough to resist you all day long." His smile was heart-melting.

"Only if you're positive, Jethro. I want you happy."

He grinned and nuzzled her neck. "You make me happy, Molly."

The next morning he went straight to Morrow's office and had a very long talk with him.

Later that same morning, a memo signed by NCIS Director Thomas Morrow went out to all employees:

"Effective Immediately:

MCRT Supervisory Senior Special Agent In Charge L. J. Gibbs has accepted a new position as Consultant and Special Assistant to the Director and will serve in whatever roles events may require or as designated by the Director.

Former MCRT Senior Field Agent Anthony D. DiNozzo jr is promoted to Senior Special Agent In Charge of MCRT One.

MCRT Special Agent Timothy McGee is promoted to MCRT One Senior Field Agent.

Congratulations are extended to all."

Stunned by the news, people began coming by the bullpen to see if everything was alright and were met with a rather relaxed Gibbs who was cleaning out his desk with something of a smirk on his face.

An even more stunned DiNozzo and McGee simply couldn't believe that the Boss was leaving the team.

"Not my team anymore, DiNozzo. Your headache now." Then he grinned and continued cleaning out drawers and file cabinets where he had stored things.

Tony and Tim turned puzzled eyes to get Molly's reaction and saw that she had known about it before hand. "Congratulations to both of you!" she told them sincerely. Although she'd miss working beside Gibbs, they would be working at the same place and would have all their time off together.

Molly still lived in her apartment, although Gibbs was there almost as much as she was by this point. As far as Roger was concerned, he had two homes where he was loved, petted, sweet-talked, played with, walked, exercised and well fed. There wasn't a happier dog anywhere.

* * *

A couple of days after the promotions, Gibbs stopped by to see his former team and said, "Having steaks and stuff on Saturday. Five o'clock. Got changes to celebrate."

So, on Saturday, Tony, Tim, Ducky, Jimmy, Abby, Director Tom Morrow, Tobias Fornell and Mr. Jenkins, filled Gibbs' front yard with cars.

Everyone sat on a varied collection of chairs in the backyard in the shade of the old trees with his/her beverage of choice in hand, telling old stories in a completely relaxed, laughter-filled atmosphere as beautiful thick steaks sizzled on the grill. Molly was happy to see Tom Morrow relaxed and at ease, telling his fair share of tall tales during the long, enjoyable afternoon amongst the trees and neat blooming flower beds.

One of the things Gibbs had turned out in his workshop sometime past was a long beautiful table that absolutely glowed with all the layers of hand-rubbed finishes he had put on it. It was a tall vertical center-cut slice from inside a single tree, right on down to the edges that still had bark on them, though they were sealed with a clear finish. Just stunning work! Today it would serve as their outdoor dining table. It didn't yet have legs so several trusty sawhorses from the basement were pressed into duty.

The steaks were served buffet style with crisp cold salads, baked potatoes with every topping imaginable -  _and_  a large tiramisu for later. The yard rang with laughter and talk as the delicious food and companionship were enjoyed.

As late afternoon became twilight, Gibbs lit tiki torches around the grassy back yard that cast a soft glow over everything. The tall wooden privacy fence surrounding the property gave the whole yard the feeling of a secluded glen. Molly disappeared inside for a few minutes when another guest showed up and shook hands with Gibbs, talking quietly with him for a moment off to one side.

Gibbs stood up with a smile playing around his mouth. "We've had a lot to celebrate today. Good changes for all of us. I turned my team over to the best SFA anybody could hope for. Tony, you're more than ready and I'm happy for you to be there."

"Tim, hope you paid attention to Tony because you're his SFA now. Lots of responsibility but I know you can do it."

"And guess it's no news that Molly and I have - sorta - gotten together, I guess you'd call it, and both of us want each of you here when she becomes the final Mrs. Gibbs."

There were happy murmurings and chuckles about Gibbs' list of ex-wives, then Tony asked, "When are you tying the knot, Boss?"

"Not your Boss anymore, DiNozzo. As for the other," he shrugged,"Well, I guess now is as good a time as any."

Now their guests were really buzzing with happy chatter, totally surprised that the two had kept it a secret. But this venue and in this way was perfect. They wanted it to be informal and relaxed with close friends only.

Then, Gibbs stood to one side of the late arriving guest who now held a Bible in his hands and Gibbs' attention was focused on the back door of his house.

Momentarily, Molly appeared in a most beautiful white dress that sported the short flared skirt she favored. Satin overlaid by gossamer organza with delicate white flower appliques that drifted down the skirt in increasing numbers which gave the bottom edge of the skirt a very soft, feminine look.

She carried twelve red roses - one for each person present - which she would distribute after their little ceremony.

Not taking her eyes off the tall silver-haired man with the amazing blue eyes waiting for her, her face outshone all the torches in the yard as she slowly walked toward him with Roger close at her side. Gibbs couldn't take his eyes off his bride. How can one woman be so beautiful? His eyes and face had melted in an expression of deepest love with a gentle upturn of his lips.

The genial minister introduced himself to the assembly and read a few short passages that were appropriate then led a brief prayer before asking the vows of the man and woman before him when plain gold bands were exchanged. At the completion of the sweet, heartfelt service, he said, "I am so happy to pronounce you man and wife."

There was applause and cheering as the newlyweds just stood as they were smiling at each other after a long sweet kiss.

Everybody crowded around to kiss the bride and shake the groom's hand. Abby scolded them for not letting her know because she had all kinds of ideas for decorations.

Ducky's smile was a mile wide and his expression said he was well pleased with himself - as he should be.

Roger didn't know just what was going on but his human was really happy and there were lots of other humans to pet him and slip him tidbits of their food.

Tim dashed out to his car to get his camera and got lots of great informal photos of Mr. and Mrs. Gibbs and all their guests, plus a stunning German Shepherd who had escorted his human on her walk to his other human.

The tiramisu made a terrific wedding cake.

* * *

Later, Molly, wearing jeans and a comfortable old shirt, and her husband got everything cleaned up and put away after the guests left. Then she and Gibbs rested on the old couch for a while, cuddled up close, sipping on Molly's white wine.

They happily talked about the afternoon and were so pleased to have pulled off their surprise. That they had gotten the legal paperwork done in the few short days they had, had been a miracle in itself. Molly hadn't wanted a diamond ring, only the little gold band they had selected.

It had been a really, really great afternoon and there's no doubt that everyone had enjoyed themselves immensely.

Jethro and Molly talked quietly, hands softly stroking or touching the other until Molly actually fell into sleep for a little while, exhausted from keyed up nerves and emotions.

Gibbs just held her, smiling from knowing that they'd never be separated again. Whatever had been required of him to get to this point was more than well worth it. Warm in each other's arms, they both napped with contented happiness. There would be plenty of time later for - um - other things.

Blushing furiously, that's when Molly had stammered, "Jethro, I - don't - I mean, well, I'm not – um - - ".

Jethro held her closely as he chuckled softly. "Molly, don't worry about it, baby girl. We'll work it out together, okay?"

Still embarrassed by her sorta-confession, Molly drew a deep breath and nodded. She trusted Jethro with everything else so she'd trust him in this, too.

Jethro began slowly undressing her, taking all the time in the world, kissing her, caressing her, softly touching the scars she bore. She had never undressed a man before or been undressed by one so this was truly a new experience especially as she was so distracted by what he was doing to her.

Just feeling his smooth skin over strong muscles as she lifted his shirt over his head made her swallow hard. The bit of soft silver hair on his chest felt so - sensuous against her own bare skin she couldn't get enough of it. Those hands and his lips were making every cell of her body begin to hum.

Her other clothing being removed slowly revealing her entire body to him became an amazing experience as his kisses trailed down her hips to her ankles as big strong hands slid down her legs and back up to just the tops of her inner thighs then continuing up her torso to cup and hold her breasts as his body slowly slid up over hers.

The feel of his weight on her was an erotic experience in itself. He made her want him even closer than close, making her breathe faster, moving slowly beneath him just savoring the sensation of the feel of him on her skin.

The experience of feeling their skin touching made their breath quicken. His hands roaming so slowly over her body now ignited fires she hadn't known existed. His touches and kisses skin almost made her stop breathing.

Molly was learning the feel of his body as her small hands slowly explored, massaging the strong muscles of his back, his arms. Finally enjoying the feel of his soft silver hair in her fingers. Discovering and welcoming all of his powerful maleness, immersed in his love and emotion, his physical presence and the power within him.

Their bodies entwined, the outside world didn't exist. There was only the two of them, venturing into a world of their own and of their own creation, created by every sensual new moment of exploration and discovery

Jethro was slowly taking her to higher and higher planes of powerful sensations she had never known. His hands explored her most intimate places sending her to unimaginable places. He used every bit of strength in him to wait for the very special moment that would bind them together forever as one.

His manipulations brought such extraordinary feelings that built and built and built until neither of them could wait no more and she cried for him to have her. Being sizable, Gibbs was very careful and gentle, giving her body time to begin adjusting to him, especially until they got past her virginity, but all that followed that most loving invasion, was beyond anything either could describe. It was thundering, throbbing. Mind-blowing. All-encompassing. Explosive. Uniting them in ways that words could never express.

Much, much later, they simply collapsed together, exhausted not only by physical exertion but by intense emotional and physical responses to each other. It was a memorable, very precious time for them.

Molly was so grateful that she had this one extraordinarily special man to take her on this indescribable path. It was one they would repeat frequently. Very frequently.

Jethro couldn't believe the beauty and perfection of her body. He kissed every place he could reach, every scar left on that soft skin by those who wanted to kill her. Learning the little places that made her shiver or gasp with pleasure, the look and feel of her lovely breasts, larger than he had expected. He didn't know how she had kept them so well hidden beneath her clothing as she did.

His extremely deep and most heart-felt love for her caused him to want to give her only the greatest joy in these private times together. For only the second time in his life was he totally, completely in love with a woman. He was so overwhelmed by having her as his wife, it nearly brought him to tears. It would be impossible for him to express any of it in words but he felt that Molly understood that. And what he could see in her eyes told him that she felt the same.

It was getting close to dawn when they finally fell asleep in each other's arms, neither wanting to be apart from the other for even a moment. They were going to have an extremely good life together.

* * *

At first Roger was confused by whatever his humans were doing. They made sounds he wasn't used to and wasn't sure if they were cries for help or what. Were they fighting? No. Well, what? Nothing in his life explained this to him.

He stayed close and tried to figure it out and was very, very glad when they finally went to sleep. That was different, too. His mistress slept by herself. Taking advantage of the quiet, he settled himself on his rug and put these strange things aside, falling into a deep, contented sleep.

* * *

~ Continued ~

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Carolina Connection Series: Book 1, part 1: BEGINNINGS  
> The Carolina Connection Series: Book 1, part 2: VENDETTA  
> The Carolina Connection Series: Book 1, part 3: REPRISAL  
> 
> 
> The Carolina Connection Series: Book 2, part 1: LIFE - CHANGE

* * *

 

Gibbs was happy in his new position as NCIS Consultant and Special Assistant to the Director and was involved in so many aspects of the Agency, he sometimes found that he didn't have as much extra spare time as he had thought. Sometimes entire days were spent in MTAC as he monitored or directed NCIS actions in nearly every corner of the world.

He assisted in investigations frequently, spent a lot of time on projects he and the Director discussed and planned.

Jethro had plans for changes he wanted to make in his house, so he and Molly lived in her apartment until he completed everything. Not having as much time as he had expected, it would take a long time, but they were happy and content in the apartment.

Molly loved working with Tony and Tim and, most of the time, they used a two-out, one-in setup that worked well for them. At times all three were out in the field working together smoothly. The three of them made a really great team, especially pleased that they not only matched the solve-rate that Gibbs had maintained but were actually raising the rate slowly but surely. Gibbs was extremely proud of them.

Their three personalities meshed together perfectly. Tony made a superior Senior Agent and Tim did well as SFA. He was so thankful that Tony had taken him under his wing and had begun teaching him long ago. Though he had butterflies at times, Tony was open to helping anytime.

Gibbs knew they were fully capable of handling anything that came their way. He had nothing more to teach them. By staying in his position, he was holding Tony and Tim back. It had simply been time to make this change and he was glad he had.

The promotion had been good for Tony in many ways. He had risen to a position that was far above what his father had believed he'd ever attain. His father's hurtful words now lost the last of their sting. Tony could take a deep breath, knowing that he was now free of so many of the demons that had haunted him for so long. His stride declared his confidence. His behavior was worthy of the position he now held - though he'd always be exuberant and have playfulness in his personality. It was just part of his charm and who he was.

One change Tony made as team leader that Molly and Tim both appreciated was that by six in the evening, they were sent home. It was Tony's opinion that, except in extreme cases where time was of critical importance, the team would do better work if they were able to keep a schedule as normal and regular as possible. They remembered all too well the long, long hours and very little sleep they struggled through so often. And they did feel much better with these new hours.

As for rules, the new SSA had two: always watch your partner's six and always be reachable. Nobody could argue with either one.

Tim had many of the same feelings Tony did. The Admiral had scorned his son for many years even after Tim finally stood up for himself and refused to go into the Navy to follow in his father's footsteps. Tim was born to be a computer genius and he sensed that in himself. That's why he applied to and was accepted at MIT and other prestigious institutions where he earned his multiple degrees.

It was Tim's inborn nature that made him want to help people and to get the criminal elements off the streets. After a bit of research, he discovered that he could best use all his skills in the little-known federal agency called NCIS. In the beginning, it appeared that he had made a dreadful mistake when he was first assigned to the Norfolk detail and he was terribly disappointed.

Then, Special Agent Gibbs and his team came to Norfolk on a case and he was assigned to assist them. That was the turning point. He wanted to work on that team more than about anything he could think of - then came the day when Gibbs asked for the new guy to be assigned to his MCRT.

Tim knew that, in time, he too would lead a team and made up his mind that he'd have himself fully prepared when that time came and also knew he'd have some big shoes to fill in following Tony who followed Gibbs who followed Franks. He smiled.

Molly couldn't help but smile as she watched her teammates get accustomed to their new positions in NCIS as well as the new locations of their desks. When they got their first call-out, they grabbed their gear and rushed out to the scene of a murder. Scene photographed, sketched, bagged and tagged, Ducky and Jimmy removed the body of the sailor, then the team started the painstaking search for information about the victim and others close to him.

Molly returned to the Yard to to take evidence to the lab and begin her computer searches. As soon as she got a positive ID on the victim, it was easy to run it through IAFIS for additional info. She found everything she could in those initial hours of their investigation and phoned it in to Tony and Tim who were looking for and interviewing witnesses.

By the time those two returned to the Yard, Molly had gotten additional info and had put together a great profile on the victim set up to run on the plasma screen. The interviews the men had conducted with witnesses hadn't given a lot of info but one man provided them with an excellent description of a car that had sped away from the area. The time was very close to the estimated TOD Ducky had given them at the scene.

Paperwork and reports, some names and addresses, those above the sailor in the chain of command - all would occupy the team until the crime was solved - which they did as it all came together for them.

* * *

The team worked on their cold cases individually, tracking possible clues, going over evidence. At one point Molly needed to check with Abby on a point but didn't want to go. She didn't know what to expect from her since that awful night when Abby opened her suspicions in public, putting both Molly and Gibbs in a very awkward situation. That was just a mean thing to do and Molly didn't understand why Abby had done it.

She was sitting at her desk, chin resting in one palm and the other hand tapping a pencil restlessly. Tony looked over and saw her slight frown. "What's up, MollyMac?" he asked quietly.

She dug up a smile. "Nothin', Tony. Just thinkin' about this case. I - have to go to the lab."

Signaling Roger to stay put, the agent took the back elevator down to the lab where the noise level was literally deafening. That's why Roger was upstairs; his ears couldn't tolerate that much sound. Molly picked up the remote and lowered the volume so they could communicate.

Abby spun around, enraged that someone had turned her 'music' down. She marched straight over to Molly, jerked the remote from her hand and pressed the + button until the decibel level was back where it had been. Screaming to be heard, Abby told her, "Don't ever come down here and touch my music again! This is MY lab and I can do what I want in it!"

Not even bothering to try yelling over the noise, Molly just turned and went back upstairs. She sat at her desk, upset at what Abby had done and was trying to think what she had ever done to merit that kind of treatment, especially in a professional work setting.

Noticing the disturbed expression on her face, Tony asked, "Get the information you needed, Molly?"

Hesitantly she shook her head 'no.' How was she supposed to explain this situation?

"What happened?"

Molly looked at him with worried eyes, but hesitated again.

"Tell me, Molly. If there is a problem, you are required to report it to the ranking agent in charge who, in this case, is me. Now tell me."

Molly dropped her head with a sigh then looked up and raised her chin. "With a question about a piece of evidence, I went to the lab where the music was blastin' so loud you'd have to scream to make yourself heard. I saw the remote and turned it down.

Abby was furious, grabbed the remote and turned it back up. Then she screamed over the music somethin' about it was  _ _her__  lab and she'd do what she wanted in it. I didn't even try to communicate under those circumstances. If I can't talk to her, how can I get the information that she has for my case? I just left."

Tony's face became still and set as he rose from his seat, buttoned his suit jacket and disappeared into the back elevator.

* * *

Molly looked at Tim with wide eyes. "Tim, what's happenin' down there? Will everything be alright?"

Tim's face was suffused with anger. "Oh, it'll be cleared up alright! Tony will see to that. Abby is getting more and more out of hand. She is required to work with every agent in the effort to solve cases - cold or otherwise. Things are going to have to change down there. She'd better be glad that the Director didn't hear any of it."

Molly sighed. "Tim, why does somethin' always have to go wrong? I try really hard to do the best I can on whatever I'm assigned. But it doesn't seem to matter very much. It really hurts when - people - get angry with me and I don't know why." She just shook her head in sadness.

Tim came over to her desk and wrapped her in a big hug. "I understand, Mac. It's hard to maintain the standards you want in your work when there's someone around gunning for you. For me it makes a stressful job even more stressful. Standards start to slip as the pressure builds. All because somebody has bee in his britches about something and is out to hurt you."

Molly gently patted on one cheek. "You have such a good heart, Tim. I'm so glad I know you!"

Someone cleared his throat and the two agents looked up at the Director. Tim's nervousness instantly reappeared, "Ahhh, hello, Director. I was - just - ah -"

Morrow interrupted, "I know, Agent McGee. You two are as thick as thieves; there is no inappropriate behavior involved here. My question is what is it that Miss Sciuto hopes I don't hear?"

Tim and Molly looked at each other before Tim answered, "Ahh, Ton - ah, Agent DiNozzo is handling it, sir. I'd have to refer you to him for further information."

Morrow nodded, then said quietly, "Thank you, Agent McGee. Hope your flying is going well."

Sparkles instantly appeared in the agent's green eyes. "Yes, sir! Don't get much time for it, but I'm still learning so many things. It's very interesting!"

Morrow's face wore a slightly amused look as he noted the instant change from serious federal agent to excited kid. "Good. Excuse me, there is something I must attend to," then the Director left.

Down in the lab, the music was gone. Silent. Or it would have been if a loud argument wasn't in progress. The elevator door swished quietly open and Director Morrow entered the lab. Neither one of the participants heard or noticed his arrival until he stepped up close to the scientist and the Senior Special Agent.

Tony's angry face turned to the Director and apologized for the very heated discussion they were having. Abby's pale skin was flushed red with hot anger that still lingered on her face. It was plain that although the argument had been interrupted, it wasn't over.

The Director spoke firmly, "Special Agent DiNozzo, I want a detailed verbal report of the incidents that led to this confrontation. Now."

Tony replied succinctly and clearly. As the Director listened, his face grew more resolved and displeased. When Tony finished, Morrow turned to the forensic scientist, saying, "Do you have anything to say in response to this, Miss Sciuto?"

Abby cast about trying to think of something but what popped out of her mouth wasn't the smartest thing to have said. In a whiny tone, Abby responded, "Director, I have to have my music or I can't think. And when somebody walks in and turns it off, it makes me mad. This is  _ _my__  lab! It's my place and nobody else has any business here, much less some - person - Gibbs dragged in here. He doesn't even bring me Caf-Pows like he used to. He used to let me do lots of things because I was his favorite - but now...I'm not, I don't think. But if Gibbs was here today, he'd take care of this and everything would be fine. But Tony has to come down here and play big shot and throw his weight around. But I don't have to take his 'orders', either!"

When she wound down, Abby suddenly wondered if she had said the right things. She hadn't expected the Director to take this moment to come to the lab. But they couldn't do anything to her. This  _ _is__  her lab and she could do whatever she wanted in it.

Director Morrow could hardly believe what he had heard. Sciuto had admitted all she had done. After a moment, he turned to Tony, "Special Agent DiNozzo, I order you to return to your desk and write a detailed report on the events that led up to this conflagration and have it on my desk by lunchtime. Miss Sciuto, you do the same. On my desk by lunchtime. And you will be available this afternoon for a meeting in my office. Clear?"

Abby muttered a "Yes, sir" that was barely audible.

Morrow indicated that Tony should leave the lab and he followed him into the elevator and muttered, "Helluva situation. Can't wait to read what she writes."

The doors opened and the two got out, each going to his own desk.

In the bullpen, both Tim and Molly looked at Tony with questions in their eyes as if they were asking, "Wellll?"

He gave them the gist of what happened and that he had to write a full report on it by lunchtime. Glancing at his watch, he commented, "Which means I'd better get on it!"

He looked at Molly and told her to write a report, as well, and he'd attach it to his. That way, everything would be documented.

Molly nodded, closed the folder she had been working on and began typing on her keyboard. On paper it looked so ugly and petty. Maybe it was, but when Abby refused to work with her, progress on a case was stopped. When ordered to relate the incident by a senior agent, she had no choice. Well, what was done was done and the chips would fall where they may. She was not the one who had started this whole sordid thing.

Later, when summoned to the Director's office, Tony and Molly went upstairs, followed a few moments later by the scientist, who was disgruntled because she had to be here at all.

First Molly was ordered to tell what had happened, followed by Tony, then Abby was given the opportunity to respond. By this time, she realized that she needed to back down whether she wanted to or not, so she changed her story here and there to soften her actions and responses.

Director Morrow sat back in his chair and sighed as he rolled a pencil around and around in his fingers. The silence in the room was heavy. Very heavy.

At last, the Director said, "Miss Sciuto, I have to admit that I'm quite surprised by the very juvenile behavior you have demonstrated today. Such behavior is far below the minimum of what is expected from every employee of this agency. I am suspending you effective immediately for a period of one month without pay to give you time to reflect on your behavior and hopefully improve it dramatically if you want to continue employment with this agency."

"Do any of you have questions?"

Both Tony and Molly shook their heads in the negative, as Abby growled, "If Gibbs was here, this wouldn't happen. He always makes thing alright."

Morrow looked at her face flushed with anger and told her, "Miss Sciuto, I am the appointed Director of this agency. The buck stops here, as Harry Truman said. Present or not, Special Agent Gibbs would have no part in these proceedings. You answer to me, Miss Sciuto."

"Certain changes will be made immediately, as well. Henceforth, music will be at a low level which  _ _I__  will determine - and just be glad it isn't banned altogether! You will work with any agent in a courteous and professional manner."

"Also note that the lab downstairs belongs solely to this agency who has the authority to set any rules desired. Further, upon your return from suspension, you will be on probation status for the six months following. Any negative report will result in your immediate termination."

"Do you understand all of this, Miss Sciuto? Any doubt or questions?"

Abby just stared at the man with fury flaming in her green eyes. She looked as if she was barely under control.

The Director dismissed Abby and addressed Molly after she left. "Mac, if you have any problems, I expect you to file a report with your team leader who will investigate and report to me. Understand?"

A soft "Yes, sir" was her answer. Molly hated to have confrontations with anyone but she also had to be able to do her assigned work. She'd try her best to avoid any future conflict but would follow the Director's orders.

Morrow turned to Tony, "You did well, DiNozzo, in attempting to solve this problem, but there's no way to accomplish that when dealing with someone who operates under false illusions and an overdose of jealousy. Okay, let us see what transpires in the future. Meanwhile, we'll have someone fill in Sciuto's position."

Dismissed, they returned to the bullpen just in time to see Tim step off the elevator carrying three cups of coffee. Molly had to smile. "Tim, you are so thoughtful! Thank you very much. We sure need this!"

"Good job, McGee! Thanks. Whew. Do I ever need this! I think now I have a glimmer of why Gibbs drank the strongest coffee he could get."

The next day a blonde-haired, blue-eyed man, in his mid to late thirties, stopped by the bullpen and introduced himself as he shook hands all around. "I'm Dave Holland, your temp lab rat. Glad to meet all of you. Let me know whenever you need anything."

Molly like his easy-going demeanor and pleasantness. He walked with confidence and carried himself well and was built well - all signs of someone who knew himself and was in control of himself. This would be like going from dark to light. It would be so nice to get the information needed and be able to get back to work.

Several weeks went by when Dave told Tim that his stay here was being extended for an indefinite time. Apparently the former scientist had applied for a Leave of Absence which was approved. Dave said, "I don't wish ill on anyone, but I really like it here and would love to stay."

* * *

Abby hadn't been happy with the arrangements in the lab when she returned but she realized that she may as well make the best of it because Director Morrow wasn't going to change his mind.

She found Dave Holland to be a pleasant and thoroughly qualified forensic scientist who was easy to get along with but who wouldn't allow her to bully him. Abby certainly wasn't used to that, but it made her look at look at the one she had been prepared to hate on sight with new eyes.

Further, she was instantly brought up short when she learned that he was actually  _ _Doctor__  David Holland when she got curious and did an online search on him. His list of degrees, certificates and honors was eye popping. From that point forward, she became much more agreeable in her behavior. Also, if she became overloaded with things to process and he had time, he'd help her. Abby realized she had a lot to be thankful for and gradually returned to her happy, bubbly self.

One benefit of having another scientist on staff was that she didn't have to operate at warp speed anymore. Sure they'd get really busy sometimes but it wasn't the way it had been with only one scientist for the entire DC facility. And she needed a lot less Caf-Pow now - which helped cut down on the endless rambling she previously included in nearly everything she said.

The Director had also authorized the expenditure to upgrade the lab and make it easier for two full-time scientists to work at the same time. It was really nice! She more-or-less had her lab equipment and he had his. She was on one side, he was on the other.

Her one complaint had been that she couldn't listen to her music and she refused to acknowledge that Frank Sinatra could ever sing a single note. The next morning, Dave came into the lab with a beautifully wrapped gift for her: an MP4 player with earbuds. He already had one.

So peace reigned in the lab and the agents seemed to like the arrangement, as well. It had been the Director's belief all along that two scientists were needed to properly cover all that was needed with three MCRTs and two other top-notch teams all working on their own cases, as well as other agents working in the field.

Everything seemed to be working out well. Abby found that she didn't even mind working with Dave on vehicles brought into the evidence garage, either. He had a great work ethic, a sharp, intelligent mind, a terrific sense of humor and was a nice guy to boot. Neither did it hurt that he was easy to look at. Nope. Not even she could complain.

She never apologized to Molly but she was civil when they had business to conduct.

* * *

When Jethro wasn't at the Yard, he spent as much time as possible working on his house. Having decided what he wanted to do with it, he organized it into priorities of what would be done when.

He really had the best of all worlds. His work was interesting and important; he enjoyed it even more that he had anticipated.

But, he also had more free time than he had ever had in his life and was extremely happy to be able to do this work. He was remodeling the entire house. When Molly was off, she'd be here with him, sanding, finishing, painting and they had a ball doing it together.

Gibbs was very pleased with the way the work in the house was turning out. In his opinion, it had never looked as good as it did now. He had liked to work with his hands all his life and the lifetime of knowledge he had accumulated stood him in good stead in this enormous undertaking.

He eliminated the small fourth bedroom upstairs and had adjusted the remaining three bedrooms so that the first and second bedrooms now had full private baths and plenty of closet space. The walls sported beautiful fresh-looking pastel colors that just worked well with each of the rooms, serving as the perfect background for the furniture and decor he'd work on later. He didn't know the names of some of the stuff he wanted to put in the rooms but he did know what he liked when he saw it. Much later when that time came, Molly was fun to be with as they looked and shopped together.

The bedroom furniture he had built for their room was something he was particularly proud of. Light in color, sanded to perfection, a sealant was first applied, then layers of clear finish was hand rubbed into it, creating a perfect finish that glowed while showing off his workmanship and skill.

The snazzy new beveled baseboards throughout the house looked as if they had cost a mint but had been created in his basement workshop. Their coats of dazzling pure white made everything just pop with perfection. They made everything look fresh, crisp and clean.

The doors made him just want to gently rub his hand over them. They were another thing that looked as he had spent a fortune on but they too came from his basement. The touches of embellishments he had added to them couldn't have been more perfect. Understated classiness and elegance.

The kitchen was still a work-in-progress. He had built new lower cabinets and topped them with a soft cream marble, probably the most expensive purchase he'd made. The sink was installed and he had to complete a little work on the drawers then that part would be finished. The upper cabinets were in various states of readiness in the basement. A couple more days and they'd probably be ready to hang.

He'd built in soft undercounter lighting and had installed overhead recessed lighting every so many feet around the perimeter of the whole kitchen. The new wood floors glowed from the treatments he had done to them.

The living room now had colors that harmonized the soft creamy color his had put on the walls. It showed off the fireplace (which had been thoroughly scrubbed for probably the first time in its life).

The floors in this room were done exactly like the ones in the kitchen and were a great backdrop for the pair of new dark brown leather sofas that sat facing each other on either side of the fireplace. Two easy chairs in the same leather completed the seating area.

As soon as he went to pick up the beveled glass tops, he'd place them on the small side tables he'd built out of scraps and place them by the chairs. An area rug between the two sofas had many soft shades in it that both contrasted and complimented the room.

He'd made a large square coffee table to sit on the rug between the sofas out of scrapes of the light-toned wood with which he'd made his bedroom furniture. A thick piece of bevel-edged glass sat atop the table and he was pleased as punch the way it had turned out.

The only piece he hadn't decided on replacing or not was the old dining table that sat near the kitchen. He just liked that table and didn't really didn't want to change it. He'd think about it some more. Actually it looked pretty good as it was.

He still hadn't made up his mind about the garage, either. His truck was used to being outside, as was the agency sedan. The Challenger his dad had completely restored for him was another matter. He'd really like to have it sheltered. He loved that car not only because his dad had spent so much time and energy on it, but because the 1970 Dodge Challenger was just a cool kickass car and he loved it. Always had.

As he sat reviewing all the things he had accomplished in his home, he felt a sense of great personal satisfaction in what he had done. There was something that just satisfied the soul in seeing his own completed work and being so pleased that it looked in reality as it had when he had visualized what each would look like, both individually and collectively.

* * *

There was a decided chill in the clear February air. Gibbs and Molly frequently came to this little Italian restaurant Tony had introduced to them on one of their Friday nights out and this Friday night was no different. They didn't even have Roger with them since he was with Mr. Jenkins on one of the overnight visits the landlord requested.

The Viet Nam vet loved this beautiful dog and would throw a tennis ball for him until he wore out his arm. Roger loved the attention, though he certainly didn't lack for attention at the office because someone was always stopping by to visit with him for a moment. But Molly felt he needed variation in his routine sometimes and Mr. Jenkins was always asking to 'Roger sit', as he called it.

Gibbs parked across the street from the restaurant and, with fingers interlaced, they softly talked and laughed with each other as they strolled over to it.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, two big forms sprang out of the shadows of an alley, taking Gibbs out with one hard swing of a length of pipe, then shoving Molly forcefully onto the cold rough sidewalk and the side of the brick building, leaving her stunned. A light blue windowless panel van raced in and skidded to a stop as Gibbs' inert form was thrown into the back while the two assailants jumped in behind him and slammed the rear door shut. The van raced away with a screech of tires and an engine being pushed to its max.

After a moment, Molly raised her head as she tried to shake the grayness away from her eyes. Looking around quickly, she felt a moment of panic as she realized that Jethro was missing. She managed to get to her feet and get to the restaurant door where a beaming Arturo started to welcome her in until he saw the large raw scrape on the side of her forehead, slowly dripping blood down her face and onto her leather jacket.

Getting his guest into a chair, Arturo called loudly _,"Conchetta! Vieni presto! Chiama la polizia!"_ Conchetta hurried out from the kitchen and made the call. Seeing Molly, she quickly returned to the kitchen and brought a cool wet cloth with which to gently wipe the flowing blood from her face. Ignoring their anxious questions, Molly dug into her pocket for her phone and managed to punch in a number. Her voice shaking, she told Tony, "Jethro is gone! He's been taken, Tony! Please come quickly. At Arturo's."

As the full meaning of the situation sank in, her stomach suddenly felt extremely nauseous. Seeing her distress, Conchetta brought her a cold drink as fast as her ample size would allow.

In the distance, the wail of sirens could be heard. Moments later, two uniformed officers burst into the restaurant and quickly gathered what information they could, though Molly could tell them little of the actual kidnapping. The other patrons of the restaurant tried to stay out of the way as more big uniformed officers entered, asking each person if he or she had seen or heard anything, receiving a shake of the head each time.

Then the door flew open as Tony burst in. He immediately went to Molly and heard what little she could tell him, then started to call for an ambulance to take her in for a check-over. Still shaking, she told him firmly, "I'm not goin' anywhere except to go look for Jethro! So you might as well save yourself the time."

"Molly, don't you think - "

"No! I don't! Tony, my husband is gone and I don't know who or why! You and Tim need me."

Well, he couldn't argue with that. He called the lab to see who was on duty this evening and the phone was answered by Dave. "I'll be here as long as you need me, Agent DiNozzo."

Enroute to the restaurant, the Lead agent had called Director Morrow, Tim and Fornell. Metro officers had cordoned off the scene with yellow tape to preserve any possible evidence.

Tim talked quietly with Molly, and got only a little more - that there were two assailants, the door she heard slam sounded a lot like a truck or van door, and that Jethro had never said a word. Apparently he had been taken out quickly from behind, likely hit with something and rendered unconscious.

Arturo brought the shaking Molly a small glass of her favorite wine. He kept a bottle or two on hand just for her. Conchetta fussed over her as any good Italian mother would do. As soon as it was allowed, the patrons left once their names had been recorded and matched with ID.

Tim checked the surrounding businesses for security cameras and was in the process of contacting each owner, hoping upon hope that at least one of them contained the information they so desperately needed.

* * *

When Gibbs began to regain consciousness, the only thing he was aware of was brain-splitting pain that made him so weak he could barely move. He was unable to keep his eyes open even though he detected only darkness around him. His stomach felt as if it was going to empty itself of whatever may still be remaining from his lunch.

His senses were so sluggish and unreliable, he could discern only that the pain in his skull was beyond anything he could ever recall.

In moments, the blackness welcomed him back.

* * *

Director Morrow sat in his office with a worried expression in his blue eyes. Who wanted to do harm to Gibbs? He snorted to himself. The easier question would be who _didn't_  want to do him harm. All those years in law enforcement, the list was probably very, very long.

Where could they even begin? When he started down the stairs beside the bullpen he was surprised to see Mac at her desk, tapping keys quickly pulling up and printing out any info she could find that could even remotely be pertinent.

She had finally relented to Tony's badgering to let EMTs look at the knot and deep scrape on her forehead and temple. They'd said that if she did have a concussion, it would probably be a minor one, but they cleaned the ugly raw scrape, applied an antibiotic cream on it and taped a four inch by four inch square bandage over it, urging her to see her doctor without delay if any other symptoms developed.

She had taken one of the agency sedans Tony and Tim had driven to the scene and gone back to the Yard. With an unbreakable determination, she began to work. She brought up a list of potential criminals who had been released from prison in the recent past. She needed Tony to go over it since he'd be more familiar with the names than anyone else.

Later, when they had exhausted every possibility, the two senior agents returned to the Yard. Molly showed what she had been able to find in this early search, as well as asking Tony to go over the criminal list she had created.

Tim had been able to locate four owners who released the video captured by their cameras. He was in the lab with Dave reviewing every frame, watching carefully for even the smallest clue that may be revealed. Two cameras had caught only the roofline of the vehicle. Though the film was in black and white, it was clear that the vehicle had indeed been a panel van and was light in color.

Setting up the footage from the third camera, there was a brief moment when two dark figures walked into the range of the camera and disappeared into the alley beside the restaurant. Tim called Tony who called Fornell to have his people check the alley carefully.

The last camera showed the quick attack on the two NCIS agents, Gibbs being quickly shoved into the back of the van, immediately followed by the two thugs. Something was smudged on the license plate so a number wasn't readily readable but Dave told Tim that he'd work on it and see if he could clean it up enough.

The last of the footage showed Molly down on the sidewalk trying to clear her head and get to her feet while holding on the brick wall beside her. She staggered toward the restaurant door then the film went black.

Tony and Tim had photographed the skid marks left by the van from every angle possible in hopes that Dave or Abby would be able to determine the tire brand, where sold and for what vehicles. Once back at the office and seeing that Dave was already fully occupied, Tony called Abby and told her to report to the lab ASAP.

 _ _'Where are you, Boss? We need some help here, okay? Wanna send us a clue or something?'__   For the fifth time, Tony reviewed the list of names Molly had compiled. He recognized most of the names, but some went back to times when Gibbs still worked under Mike Franks.

He sighed. It could be any one of these on the list; even someone not on the list. There had been no threats made, no prior communication in any form.

Tony went upstairs to see the Director. "Sir, do you know if Gibbs was working on something in his new capacity that may be relevant to the kidnapping?"

Morrow sighed, "I wish I knew, Tony. I've reviewed all that I've been aware of and can make no connection."

Tony's hope smashed, he hung his head for a quick moment, then straightened and said very softly, "Thank you, sir. Are you familiar with the criminals and cases Gibbs worked on when you were on your first tour here? MollyMac has come up with a list of possibles but those before my time and I know nothing about them."

"Send them to me and I'll be glad to go over it and see what I can come up with." After a moment, the Director asked quietly, "How is Mac holding up? I don't know that she should even be here."

Tony half chuckled, "Sir, nobody can make MollyMac do anything she doesn't want to - and she does not want to be anywhere except exactly where she is. She's totally focused on the task at hand and turning up some good possibilities. When Tim and Dave finish with the security footage, I'll put him on his computer and see what he uncovers. Molly has learned a lot from Tim and is excellent herself, but nobody can match Tim. Just put him in front of a computer and get out of his way."

Then Tony's personal anguish showed on his face a moment as he asked very, very softly, "Director, can we find him? Can we do this? I - I admit I'm scared we either won't find him or not find him in time."

As the dejected agent started to leave, Morrow spoke up, "Tony. We'll find him. You, your team, the FBI teams - all of you are too good at what you do for the dirtbags to remain undetected. Head up, young man. You were trained by the best. Go make him proud."

A small smile on his face, Tony answered, "Yes, sir."

* * *

Gibbs began to come into a bit of awareness again but his head injury simply wouldn't permit much thought, especially so soon after it occurred.

Dark. Cold. Hurt. That was about it before he slipped back into the comfort of no awareness.

* * *

~ Continued ~

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Carolina Connection Series: Book 1, part 1: BEGINNINGS  
> The Carolina Connection Series: Book 1, part 2: VENDETTA  
> The Carolina Connection Series: Book 1, part 3: REPRISAL  
>   
> The Carolina Connection Series: Book 2, part 1: LIFE - CHANGE

 

The eastern horizon had begun to show hints of the colors that would shortly create a dazzling sunrise to herald the beginning of another day.

Molly stood beside the big window by the bullpen, resting her forehead against the cold glass, seeking relief for her pounding skull. If her little injury hurt this much, she couldn't imagine what Jethro would be enduring. Her heart cried out for him. She could not lose him. She just couldn't. Trying to keep herself from plunging into a black pit of fear and despair, she said a silent prayer for Divine protection to be over her beloved husband and to lead them to clues to find him.

From behind, strong arms wrapped around her in a warm hug. Sweet Tim. This was hard on him, too, but he always took time to offer all the comfort he had.

Jethro was loved by this team. None of them would stop until he was found, one way or the other.

Tim then left on an unknown errand. He had only said he'd be back shortly. The sun's rays were now bathing everything outside in its soft gold light. When Tim returned the sun was fully up and the world was beginning to stir again.

He brought breakfast burritos for the entire crew and large cups of fresh hot coffee. His kindness and thoughtfulness always touched her and she gave him a hug and a soft, "Thank you, Tim."

Shortly afterward, she showed Tim what she had found in comparing the two lists and the names of those she felt they should really look into.

Tim looked over her work and nodded, "Good work, Molly. I agree that these need going over."

"Do you want me to start on it or do you have something else you want me do?"

"If you'll start on these, I'll dig down in places I probably shouldn't go and see what happens."

Molly nodded. "Be careful, Tim."

A quick one-armed hug and he said, "I will, Mac. Still gotta lot to learn about flying - and I want you to be the one who teaches me."

Molly gave him a sad smile and got to work. The crimes some of these people had committed were horrendous. It was hard to believe that they were actually back on the streets again. They should _never_  be allowed outside of prison walls!

The more she read, the more stressed she became. The thought of her Jethro in the hands of people like this terrified her. It took deliberate effort to force herself to put her feelings aside and wade through this stuff.

Fornell stopped by to leave the little possible evidence found in the alley. There was no way to know if everything pertained to this case of not. Abby and Dave had to sort that out.

When he came back on the way out, he pulled Molly up from her chair and just held her for a long moment. As he released her, he had a hand on each shoulder as he looked straight into her eyes and said softly, "We  _will_  find him, Molly. I promise. We'll find him."

Tears wanted to fill her eyes as she nodded, emotion clogging her throat. A chaste kiss on the forehead then he went to the elevator.

It was getting harder and harder to concentrate, but she refused to give in to her emotions. Tears won't help Jethro at all.

* * *

A bucket of icy cold water thrown in his face brought a sharp jerk from Jethro's body and his eyes lazily blinked about half open as his scrambled mind tried to make sense of what was going on. The high level concussion from the blow by the pipe was keeping him mostly blacked out. Recovering from the icy blast, his mind shut down again.

But the man staring down at him didn't know that and didn't care. His expression was something between a snarl and a sneer. He had waited a long time to get his hands on this man and now he had him. He'd keep him alive just enough that he could suffer some more.

Something that might have been intended as smile twisted his mouth for a moment. He was going back in to think some more. He had compiled a list the most painful tortures ever known and he wanted to put them in the order that he would do them - starting with the easier ones first working slowly toward the grand finale which would end in the agent's death days from now. By that time, he'd probably welcome it - if he had any sanity left.

He left the barn's shed and securely locked the door. Grady Manning's farm was out in the middle of nowhere. Nobody around here for miles, but no need to take chances. Back inside his small house, he sat in a rocking chair in front of the fireplace enjoying the cozy warmth as he closed his eyes and pictured all these happy coming events in his mind.

The man in the shed had caused him more pain than anybody should ever suffer. Mandy had been the light of his life for nearly thirty years; a sweet, loving and kind woman who kept a spotlessly clean house, cooked the most delicious meals you ever tasted, who laughed and sang as she did her work. He had been astonished all those years ago when the lovely Amanda Grayson agreed to be his wife.

Now she's dead. And Gibbs caused it. It had been two years ago this month that she had finally given up her last breath and left this earth. No one left but their son Kyle Manning who was the worst son that had ever been born. He'd given up on his son long before, but not his mother. Mandy loved that boy beyond all belief. He never could figure out why. Kyle had been born with a mean evil streak in him. That had been easily apparent when he was still a kid.

He just enjoyed killing. When he was young, it was any little creature he could catch who would slowly die, intently watched by a soulless child who slowly kept up the torture until the last spark of life finally disappeared from his victim's eyes. Then he'd smile. No amount of punishment brought about any changes. Why hadn't Mandy seen this in him? Maybe she just couldn't face the truth of it.

As Kyle grew older, life became a nightmare. He was constantly in and out of mental institutions. If he wasn't there, he was in a jail somewhere.

But it was when Gibbs nailed those four murders on Kyle that resulted in his son being locked in a prison mental ward that finally did it. Criminally Insane the doctors said. Mandy's boy was locked up for the rest of his life.

Something inside her broke then. She didn't laugh anymore. She didn't sing anymore. She went about her tasks silently, almost robotically. His Mandy had died even though she still breathed. Her body finally gave up and died, as well.

Gibbs. He was going to pay in sweat and pain and tears for every bit of it. But he wanted him awake when he did it. Danny must have hit him harder than he thought. A boy who sometimes worked for him, Danny Johnson didn't have a whole lot between the ears, but he was big, strong and made a willing accomplice when they nabbed Gibbs. His brother Pete quite readily agreed to drive his van when he was offered some greenbacks. That's all that was needed.

He had quietly followed and observed Gibbs for a good while and detected a couple of patterns in his habits that he'd watched carefully and slowly let his plan come together at the right moment. Deciding to come to this particular restaurant on this particular night was his long-awaited moment and his plan worked even better than he'd expected.

The big man brought down by a plate of spaghetti. Funny!

Grady didn't realize that what he planned was no better than what his son had done. Like son, like father, in this case.

* * *

Fornell met in a conference room with his agents who had been out asking questions for the last fifteen hours or so. Most had only gotten sore feet and a lot of fatigue, but there may be something in the whispers on the street so he'd pass it along to DiNozzo. They'd keep looking.

A BOLO had gone out hours ago about a light colored panel van, possibly light blue but there had been no hits on it yet. Light blue was a color not often seen on a van of that type.

Tim and Molly were plowing through the info obtained by the FBI. Two of the informants mentioned the same name, Danny Johnson. That was a red flag. Delving into the life of Johnson revealed a sad story of a mentally-challenged man who was easily led into illegal activities, mostly by his own brother Pete.

Pete had done a short stint in a federal prison but he was and always would be a low-level wannabe with a twenty-watt brain. He'd been out of prison for four years now and there was no other record of new charges since. Judging by the address, they lived way the heck out in the sticks.

The problem was that neither one had any previous ties to Gibbs. Absolutely none. They were back at square one. They started on the next tidbit that floated to the top of the mess they were trying to untangle.

At the end of another long, long day, both agents sat back discouraged. Nothing. Precious time wasted.

Tony asked for their sitrep when he returned to his desk though by their expressions it wasn't hard to figure out the answer.

"We got nothing, Boss. Spent the whole day tracing out clues and got nothing." Tim was glum and angry.

Molly simply sat with head bowed as she tried hard to keep her faith and trust the Divine God she knew existed and lived.

Tim gave Tony a list with all the results they had done for the last ten hours. He scanned the list but his eyes kept coming back to the Johnson names. There was something lurking in a dim back corner of his memory but couldn't shake anything loose.

He took the list upstairs and asked the Director to see if there was a name on the list that rang a bell. Carefully going over it several times, Morrow handed it back to DiNozzo with a sorrowful shake of his head. "Wish I did, DiNozzo, but I didn't pick up on a thing."

Tony sighed as he left the executive office and returned to the bullpen. Still staring at the list, he asked, "Tim, what did you find on these Johnson boys. Seems like I should remember something about them but I can't."

Tim brought up all they had on the two on the plasma screen and Tony stared at it with his forehead wrinkled. There was something - but what?

The SSIC finally called Fornell. "Tobias, you got anything on a Danny Johnson or a Pete Johnson? Something about their names is bugging me but I can't think of what."

"Don't think so, DiNozzo, but I'll get somebody to double-check and get back to you."

Molly had crossed her arms on her desk and her head rested on them. She felt exhausted physically and emotionally, but she'd never give up. She tried to recall  _anything_  about the list of names that Jethro may have mentioned. Nothing. Not one thing.

However, it was well-known that he rarely told all he knew about things. She visualized the millions of expressions he could convey on his face. Those eyes and that eyebrow alone could rule nations without a word being spoken, she was sure.

His face stayed in her mind's eye. She thought he had a rather refined face, one that hinted of aristocracy somewhere back in his lineage. And it was an interesting face. Every feature fit together perfectly with every other feature.

But it was his intense blue eyes beneath those pronounced brows that dominated everything else. A slow smile tugged at her lips as she thought of his lips. She would never get enough of his kisses and the soft warm feel of his breath.  _'Oh, Jethro. Come back to me. You're my life. Oh, God, please bring him back to me!"  
_

Tony had watched her face as she closed her eyes. He knew she was thinking of her husband and wasn't surprised to see tears ease from beneath her long, dark lashes and cross her face to drip onto the desk. She needed to sleep but he wasn't sure how to handle the situation.

He knelt down beside her and gently placed his hand on the back of her shoulder. "MollyMac? You asleep?"

Her eyes blinked open and she pushed herself into a sitting position. "I don't think so, Tony. Sometimes I wonder if this is a horrible nightmare and I'll wake up from it, finding Jethro asleep beside me, still holding me. I have to find him. Somehow."

"Yes, we'll find him, MollyMac. Why don't you come to my place and get a little sleep? You'll crash if you don't get at least a good nap."

Molly sighed. "You're a good man, Tony. Thanks for the offer. I think I'll get a shower here. I have clean clothes in my bag. Just that would feel good. I can catch a nap somewhere. But you should go. Both of you."

"If we go, you go. You're just as important and valuable as we are."

"Please, Tony. I just can't leave yet. This is the only 'live' link I have with him. I have to stay."

Tony began to understand that she saw this office as the way to find her way to Gibbs. Yeah, he could understand.

He nodded and returned to his desk, clearing his desk and shutting the computer down for a few hours.  
He looked at Tim who was deep into his computer, barely aware of anything around him, if that.

"Tim!"

Green eyes looked up, startled to be dragged back into the real world. Tony told him, "Go home and get some sleep. We'll start again in the morning."

A frown settled on McGee's face. "In a little while, Boss. I'm getting down where I need to be and I can't leave it right now."

"Okay. As soon as you can break from whatever you're doing, go home. Got it?"

Distracted as he began to return to his cyberworld, Tim answered vaguely, "Yeah, got it. Just a little while."

Tony shook his head. He knew well enough that when he came back in a few hours, Tim would still be sitting there, tapping away on the keyboard.

Molly had gone to the gym showers and would be back up shortly. She'd deal with this in the way that was best for her to handle it. But he really wished she get some sleep somewhere. Then, he thought of something.

"Tim, I just thought of something. I invited MollyMac to come camp out with me for a little while, but she wants to stay here. How about you ask her to go with you for a while. She needs to sleep!"

The SFA glanced around. "Where is she?"

Tony smiled to himself. When Tim was in his world, he knew nothing of what went on around him. "She's gone to get a shower and change clothes. Oughta be back up shortly. Ask her, will ya?"

"Okay, I'll ask. She has to get some sleep or she'll wind up having to see Ducky or Brad."

"Okay. Catch ya later."

When she returned, Tim asked but she declined, thanking him, but she just wouldn't leave this place until something broke in the case. Returning to his search, Tim didn't notice that she wasn't sitting at her desk. She had found a warm blanket and was wrapped up in it asleep down on the floor beside her desk.

* * *

A steady, soaking rain had settled in over the East Coast, refusing to leave when its welcome was worn out. Grady Manning, checked the shed several times a day, but his prisoner hadn't made much progress in regaining consciousness. He even quit locking the door. It was clear that Gibbs wasn't going anywhere.

Back in his house, he sat in his rocker thinking and was getting worried. What if Gibbs never woke up? What if he died from whatever the pipe had done to his head? He'd be cheated. And he had thought about this for so long. He'd feel as if Mandy's death was vindicated with Gibbs' own death.

After a while, he put on a jacket and his wide-brimmed hat. He had to go to town to pick up a few things. Grady had about fifty acres a few miles west of the tiny town of Marshall, Virginia. Marshall is a very small town of about a thousand souls, roughly fifty miles west of Washington.

A small grocery store served the needs of the local people, special ordering things when requested. Naturally Marshall was a place where everybody knew everybody and gossip was their primary pastime. Grady just wanted to get his stuff and get back home.

Just as he was putting his purchases in the back of his truck, Pete Johnson walked up and greeted him with a big smile. Pete was about the last person Grady wanted to run into. As quickly as he could, Grady left.

Pete stood in confusion watching the pickup truck drive away.  _'_ _ _What's up with Grady? Something go wrong with the guy they caught? What did he want with him anyway?'__ Pete smiled as he patted his back pocket. Got some money at last! Maybe he could get the attention of that blonde who's always hanging around at the bar. Buy her some drinks.

Grady checked the shed as soon as he parked the truck and saw that Gibbs hadn't even moved. Brows drawn together, he quietly walked up to the downed agent and checked his neck for a pulse. At first he couldn't find one but found a feeble one after a moment. He decided he'd better throw a blanket over him so he wouldn't freeze to death out here. That wouldn't do!

During the night, Gibbs roused up a little, opening his eyes to total darkness. His parched throat begged for water but there wasn't any. The pain in his head was worse than anything he had ever experienced. He wasn't able to verbalize these senses but he recognized what they were.

A horrible wave of nausea hit him like a freight train. He retched and heaved repeatedly but his stomach was empty and there was only a very small amount of bile. The stress of retching tripled the level of the agonizing pain in his head. There was nothing but pain. All-encompassing pain that permeated every cell, every nerve, blinding him to all other sensations. It was all he could do not to cry out from it.

His head rested on the ground as blessed unconsciousness gave him relief and peace until the next time he ventured into the world. If there was a next time. Gibbs was in critical condition. Without proper treatment, he could easily die right where he was.

* * *

That night, Pete and Danny went to the smoky bar in town and proceeded to drink themselves almost into oblivion. Pete didn't have the luck with the blonde that he had hoped. She had taken his drinks then told him to get lost. That made Pete kinda mad. Damn women, anyway! Always causing trouble some way or another. With every swallow of the potent drink he got a little madder.

When Boyd Jackson walked in he zeroed right in on the Johnson brothers. "Well, lookee who's here! The great Johnson brothers! Hey, look everybody! Pete and Danny are here! Smartest guys in Marshall, ain't they? Why ain't you boys in the library readin' up them books? As smart as you are, seems like you'd be wantin' to learn more. Geniuses!"

Jackson thought that was funny and roared with laughter. Some of his buddies joined in. They were always playing up that the brothers were not the sharpest tools in the shed, goading them constantly. But this night was not the night to rile Pete anymore than he already was!

Jackson wouldn't let up and Pete finally lost it, plowing into Boyd like a mad man, then turning to take on his buddies. Tables got overturned, chairs smashed, glassware broke and other customers split as fast as possible. They wanted no part of the Johnsons when they were mad and/or drunk. Tonight they were both.

George Myers, the bartender called the local cops (there were only four) and in a few minutes both brothers were in cuffs and being led out of the building. The town jail consisted of one cell off to the side of the chief's office area. Two county sheriff's deputies would come get them in a little while and take them to Warrenton, county seat of Fauquier county.

In court, the Johnson brothers were found guilty of destruction of property, drunk and disorderly conduct and disturbing the peace. They were sentenced to ninety days in jail plus restitution for the damage done in the bar which owner George Myers estimated at six hundred dollars. Pete wasn't about to let them take his two hundred dollars, so he kept quiet about having it.

* * *

When Tony returned to the Yard, he first thought Molly had gone home until he rounded the corner of the bullpen and saw her sleeping on the floor. He moved as quietly as possible so he wouldn't wake her.

Checking email brought nothing of interest, nothing brought up from the mailroom, still too early to call anyone, he picked up where he left off a few hours earlier. Going to the lab he saw Abby asleep on her futon and Dave was asleep in his sleeping bag. He tiptoed out quietly.

As he came back upstairs, he met Tim who had just gotten a shower and shave in the gym facilities and who had  _not_  been home yet. Tony gestured for Tim to follow by a tilt of his head away from the bullpen. Speaking softly, Tim said he had done work on light colored panel vans within a hundred miles of DC and had a list of them.

He had even checked into specific colors for light blue or that strange hue that some saw as light green, others saw as light blue. He had run a search for owners of those specific colors, as well. After that, he'd gotten cleaned up, dressed in fresh clothing and was just returning to the bullpen. In other words, he had worked all night.

"Tim, go down to Ducky's office and take a nap. I don't want you flaming out when I need you the most. Please?"

Tim wasn't accustomed to having a boss who freely said 'please' and 'thank you.' He smiled. He knew by the buzzing in his head that he really did need some sleep so he told Tony, "Okay, Boss. Only because you asked so nicely. I'll be back up shortly but call me if you need me, though."

Tony looked over the lists Tim had developed. There were a  _lot_  of names to check out. He studied the list and did some searches on some that caught his interest until Molly began to stir. A few minutes later, she sat up with hair mussed, eyes blinking, and a yawn. In that one moment, Tony envied Gibbs waking up with her every morning.  _'_ _ _Boss, we gotta get you back here!'__ _  
_

"Good morning, Sunshine! Get some good sleep?"

"Umm. Dunno. Guess so." She managed to get to her feet but didn't seem too steady. Blanket folded, she took her bag with her to the ladies room and when she returned, she looked more awake with neatly combed hair and freshly brushed teeth and a glowing face just freshly washed.

Tony said, "I'm making a coffee run. Be back in a few minutes."

Molly booted the computer up and waited for it to go through all the gyrations it had to do before being fully ready. She tried to shake the sleep from her mind.

True his word Tony returned with two large cups of fresh hot coffee and breakfast burritos. A couple hours of sleep, hot coffee and breakfast. What more could an agent ask for?

Feeling somewhat revived, Tony and Molly began working with Tim's lists, checking out each name and van. Several hours passed when Molly suddenly sat up straighter. "Tony, didn't we have a list earlier with some Johnson names on it? There's one here listed as the owner of 1999 Ford van, light blue, a Peter G. Johnson, Warrenton, Va."

Tony jumped up. "Yes, we had that name yesterday! Has a brother - uh, Danny, I think." He quickly shuffled through some papers and pulled one out. "Yes. Here it is. Okay, it came from two different FBI informants. Danny mentioned twice."

"Our research uncovered his brother Pete who did a little time in prison, got out four years ago and nothing since unless he just hasn't been caught. And now we know that Pete has a panel van, light blue in color. I think it's time we went for a little ride out to Warrenton and see what the local LEOs have to say about them. I'm going down to autopsy for a minute to leave Tim a note; be right back."

Molly hoped with all her heart that this was the breakthrough they had been looking for. When Tony came back up, she already had her warm leather jacket on and had phoned downstairs to check out an agency Challenger. About an hour's ride would put them in the small city. Molly took her laptop with her and checked out a map of the county seat and some of the local politicians.

In Warrenton, they drove straight to the Sheriff's office and introduced themselves to a deputy who led them back to the small but neat office of Sheriff James Denton. Denton was a young man in his late thirties, maybe early forties, with a trim build and a sharp appearance that screamed 'military man'.

As soon as they entered, the Sheriff held out his hand first to Molly, then to Tony, "Jim Denton. Welcome."

Tony told him what they were interested in and why. "Somewhere out there is a kidnapped federal agent and we want him back."

* * *

~ Continued ~

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Carolina Connection Series: Book 1, part 1: BEGINNINGS  
> The Carolina Connection Series: Book 1, part 2: VENDETTA  
> The Carolina Connection Series: Book 1, part 3: REPRISAL  
>   
> The Carolina Connection Series: Book 2, part 1: LIFE - CHANGE

* * *

 

"I understand, Agent DiNozzo. In fact, we just brought the Johnson boys in during the wee hours of the morning from the little town of Marshall just north of here. Drunk and disorderly and so on. They're in court at the moment but I'll have the bailiff hold them until you can talk with them. Anything else I can do for you?"

"Do you know where Johnson's van is now?"

"Probably been towed. Let me see what I can find out." As he was going out the door, he pointed to a coffee urn and said, "Help yourselves."

It was only about ten minutes later that he returned saying that Marshall Towing Service had towed the van to the Marshall impound yard and it is still there.

"I didn't even know they  _had_  an impound yard. Ron Jeffrey, police chief in Marshall is a good man. Former military, keeps a small crew but they're sharp. Take Highway 17 north and it'll take you straight to Marshall."

"I talked with the bailiff. He says the docket doesn't have much on it this morning and he'll call as soon as the Johnsons are released to him."

Their immediate business taken care of, Denton asked with concern, "Do you know what happened when your man was grabbed?"

With a fast glance at Molly, Tony said, "Yeah. Agent MacKenzie is his wife. They were going out to dinner at a favorite restaurant Friday night and they were attacked on the sidewalk just before they reached the door. Gibbs was apparently knocked out immediately and thrown into the back of a light-colored panel van, possibly light blue or light green. We had found the Johnsons' name on an FBI list but there is no connection between them and Agent Gibbs. Hopefully we can get that information from them and find him."

Denton nodded. "Let me know if I can do anything for you."

Denton's phone rang. He answered and listened a moment then said, "Okay. Thanks." To his visitors, he said, "Robert has them on hold for you, each in a different interrogation room. I'll walk you over."

A few short minutes later, the agents were introduced to a very tall, impressive black man wearing his deputy's uniform sharp enough to make the pickiest Drill Instructor smile and who ran the courtroom exactly as he ran his units when he was in the Corps. After a strong but not overbearing handshake, he led the agents to the two rooms where the prisoners were being held. "Probably won't be any trouble - too hung over - but I'll be around just in case."

"Thank you, Deputy Jamison."

Tony said, "Let's talk with Danny first." Molly agreed.

Danny Johnson would never be mistaken for anything except just what he was. It was a crime in itself that he had never had any help with his situation, never received any training to help him make most of what he was capable, but considering that Pete had basically raised his brother, that wasn't surprising. Pete would never give Albert Einstein any competition either.

The agents sat across from Danny and just introduced themselves by first names only and that they were interested in a bit of information that he may be able to help them with. Danny felt important and promised he would do his best.

"Danny, we can't find one of our friends. We think maybe somebody took him and we'd really like to get him back. You see, he and Molly here got married not long ago and she misses him badly. Will you help us? We'd really appreciate it if you will."

Danny's weak-looking, pale blue eyes settled on Molly and finally he slowly said, "I'm sorry your husband got lost. You must be real sad."

"I am, Danny. I guess Pete is the most important person to you, so you'd know how I feel if Pete suddenly disappeared and left you alone."

"Oh, yeah...that would be real bad. Pete has to take care of me 'cuz - 'cuz I'm - not too - smart. I try to learn thing but I just can't. Is that okay?"

"It certainly is. Nobody can ever ask you to do somethin' if you have tried your best. And, sometimes it isn't a person who is smart who is the best. Sometimes it's the ones who care about others and help them who are the best people. Do you think you can help me?"

Danny's pale face frowned up as he looked at the table for a few moments. He said softly, "Pete might not like it. He tol' me I couldn't talk about it to nobody or I'd be in bad trouble."

"What kind of trouble, Danny?"

"I don't know. Grady told Pete to drive his van and I'd help him catch a man he didn't like. Said he killed Miss Mandy. Pete told me I had to swing the pipe really hard and be sure not to miss. I did good he said! Did it just right!"

Molly wanted to get out of the room. She felt as if she was going to pass out any second. Under the table she felt a big hand grab hers and squeeze tightly.

Tony asked, "What did you get for helping Grady and Pete?"

Danny's wide eyes looked at the agent strangely. "Nothin'. Why would they give me anything?"

"Well, seems to me that since you played such an important part and did it so well, that they should have paid you for it."

"No, Grady wouldn't never give me anything. He gave some money to Pete, though - but I don't know what he did with it. I can't use money. I get it all confused."

"Do you know Grady's last name?"

Danny lowered his white-blond head and his brow furrowed as he tried to think. "I - I don't think I do. Mighta heard it sometime but I don't remember."

"That's okay, Danny. You've helped us a great deal. You've sure done the right thing and will help save that man's life. There's nothing more important than that! So if Pete gets mad at you, you tell him so. That makes you a much better person than your brother."

Outside in the hall, Molly all but collapsed into Tony's arms as soon as the door closed behind them. She was shaking so badly he wondered if she'd even be able to walk. Deputy Jamison helped Tony get her to a chair then left to get her something cold to drink. He returned apologetically, "I'm afraid Diet Coke is all I could find. Hope it helps."

Molly managed a soft, "Thank you," and took a large swallow of the cold drink. It immediately started chasing away the feeling of passing out and she drank more.

Tony knelt beside her chair, saying, "You doing better, MollyMac?"

She nodded as she turned to him, "Tony, I was sittin' across the table from the man who hurt my husband and he doesn't even realize what he did. We've got to find him, Tony! He - he needs help as fast as we can get it to him."

"I know, MollyMac. That was brutal but you handled yourself beautifully."

"It was you squeezin' my hand that kept me from fallin' apart right there."

"Why don't you stay here and I'll go talk to Pete. No sense in you having to go through this again."

Molly looked up unsure what to do. Pete was a little smarter than Danny - though not by alot - but at least he knew right from wrong. She didn't know if she could or not. Then she thought of Jethro. She refused to let him down in any way. She'd go do this interview and nothing was going to stop her.

Tony knew as soon as he saw that chin go up that wild horses wouldn't stop her from going into that room. He was very glad that these interviews were taped and they'd never have to go through this again. Drink finished, Molly thanked the bailiff again as she resolutely walked to the second interrogation room.

Inside, Pete Johnson looked at them with sullen eyes there were exactly like his brother's in color. He too had the white-blonde hair that made it seem that he had neither eyebrows or lashes.

Tony sat back in his chair and just stared at Johnson for long, long moments. Pete found the man's stare intimidating but the one from the woman was just plain scary!

She asked very, very softly, "Why did you do it, Pete? Money? How much? What is the price of a human life?"

Chills ran all over his skinny body. This woman terrified him. This must be about that man that Grady caught. They must know about the two hundred dollars Grady had given him. He'd never seen that much money before - and he wasn't wasn't going to let them take it away from him.

"Don't got no money."

"Then why did you do it?"

"Uh - Grady said I had to."

"Why?"

"Don't remember. He said I had to. You'll have to ask him."

"You drove you own van?"

"Yeah. Grady's truck wouldn't work because the back is open."

"Did Grady say why he wanted to kidnap this man?"

"Said he killed Miss Mandy."

"What if I told you that the man you helped kidnap had never even heard the woman's name? He had never met her?"

"But - he had to - since he killed her. He had to. And Grady said he did."

"What is Grady's last name?"

"Uhhhhh. It's - uh - it's Man-something. Yeah. That's right."

"So you were hired to drive your own van in the process of kidnapping a federal agent."

"Yeah, 'cept I dunno about that agent stuff. Grady didn't say nothin' 'bout that."

Molly and Tony looked at each other and nodded. They had what they needed.

Leaving the room, Molly sighed and leaned back against the hallway wall. Her voice was hardly even a breath. "Tony, let's go get him."

"We're gonna do that, MollyMac, but I need to talk with the Sheriff again for another minute or two. Call Tim and bring him up to date. Tell him that we're on our way to get the person who knows where Gibbs is. Tell him to have a medevac crew standby, just in case. Just sit until I get back, okay?"

Sheriff Denton told Tony that he and two deputies would accompany them to Grady Manning's place outside of Marshall. Tony collected the agency car, picked up Molly then followed Denton's marked car. On the ride over, Tony kept a tight hold on Molly's hand. She was forcing herself to remain under control, but he knew it was taking everything she had in her to do it.

Tim had been excited and thrilled that their trip was being so successful. He alerted Abby and Dave that the van was being towed back to DC, arriving shortly; a call to Chief Ron Jeffrey had taken care of that. Chief Jeffrey would also join them when they arrived in Marshall.

The chief's squad car led the way through twisting narrow dirt roads until they finally pulled up in front of a small farmhouse. Manning's pickup was parked beside the house but there was no sign of life. Weapons drawn, the mixed group of LEOs and federal agents, smoothly and almost silently slipped up to the house. Quick peeks through the windows indicated that the house was empty so Manning was somewhere outside.

The group eased around both sides of the house and got into position just as the door to the shed opened and Grady Manning stepped out, head down, unsuspecting of their presence. Just as the man drew close enough, Tony stood up and yelled, "Federal agents! Hands up!"

Manning was startled by the sudden appearance of so many people aiming guns at him, yelling at him. Suddenly he realized that he had failed; there would never be retaliation for Mandy's death. Tears welled up in his eyes as he thought of her, seeing her the way she had been - happy and singing, as he was cuffed and taken into custody.

While Tony and the other officers cuffed Manning and took him into custody, Molly raced over to the shed and wrenched the door open. In the dim light, she could see shoes and pants legs of someone but deep shadows hid the rest. She knew it was Jethro and rushed over to him.

Her heart quaking, she tried to find a pulse and nearly panicked until she detected a very feeble one. He looked just awful; pale, weak and unmoving. Running out of the shed, she yelled to Tony, "HE'S ALIVE! Call Medevac! Hurry!"

* * *

To say that Gibbs' condition was critical was an understatement. Doctors and nurses swarmed around him the instant the medevac helicopter touched down at Bethesda. Tim raced to the hospital as soon as word arrived that Gibbs had been found and was enroute to the hospital.

Brain injuries are so varied, sometimes certain symptoms don't show up for months or years later, but so far, it appeared that though he had suffered a fractured skull and a level three concussion, no fragments had penetrated into his brain.

The same MRI showed a great deal of swelling so catheters were most carefully inserted to drain off accumulated blood from internal bleeding to help decrease internal pressure. In addition, a very small gadget that monitored pressure in his brain was inserted and would be removed when no longer needed.

Intracranial pressure could do as much damage as anything else, if not more. If push came to shove, a section of the skull could be removed to relieve that danger but it hadn't quite come to that point yet.

Vital fluids were replaced in his body through IV drips as well as powerful antibiotics to ward off any infection that tried to take root in the brain. That would be catastrophic. The impact of the pipe had split his scalp open leaving a wide-open door for bacteria to enter.

Molly refused to leave his side. She sat holding his hand, talking to him, even singing in her slightly off-key voice. Though Gibbs was in a coma, there was a marked decrease in his stress-levels indicating his awareness of her presence. The times when she fell asleep with her head resting on the edge of his bed, he remained peaceful and at ease. However when Tony or Tim forced her to leave long enough to get something to eat from the cafeteria, his distress level elevated, then decreased when she returned.

She got a fast shower in the bathroom and dressed in clean clothing either of her teammates brought. They had voiced their discomfort of going through her dresser to get personal items, but she retorted bluntly, "It's not like they aren't anything y'all haven't seen before. Just get them!"

As the bolder of the two, Tony did just what she said, even picking out matching colors and sets of underwear. However, Tim, always the shyer of the pair, got Abby to go with him to pack the 'unmentionables' in the bag for him.

Over time, Gibbs went through the many-layered levels of regaining consciousness, making a little more progress each time until he eventually achieved a somewhat wakeful state. His memory overall seemed fairly intact despite the fact that some things were quite sketchy. As expected he knew nothing from the moment of impact until he awakened in the hospital.

At first he had significant problems with his vision from the part of the blow that impacted with the occipital lobe of the brain, but over time, it slowly improved. Doctors told him he would surely need stronger glasses for reading, but if that was all the permanent damage he'd be left with, Molly knew he should count himself blessed.

It took a very long time but at last came the day when he was released from the hospital. He still suffered some pretty bad headaches but they too were expected to diminish in time.

Grady Manning and the Johnson brothers were charged with assault on a federal officer, kidnapping of a federal officer and attempted murder of a federal officer, along with other lesser charges. It was likely that Danny would not be convicted because of his mental status and would instead be placed in a group home finding the help he should have had years before. However his brother, though certainly not bright, did know the difference between right and wrong. He and Manning would spend long years behind bars.

Gibbs chafed under the slowness of his recovery, but the day came at last when he was able to return to work. Director Morrow knew he had come very close to losing his right hand man, though he knew not to make a big deal of it when Gibbs returned. Gibbs was not a man who liked to be fussed over - unless, perhaps, it was his lovely wife doing the fussing.

A few days after returning to full-time status, Gibbs walked through the bullpen where his former team was quietly intent on their work. A small upward tick at one corner of his mouth and the smile in his eyes would have cancelled the effect of any gruff remark he would have made. When Tony looked up he asked, "Everything okay, Boss?"

Softly, Gibbs responded dryly, "Not your Boss, DiNozzo. Just marvelin' that nobody is in the hospital - for a change."

Without further comment he continued on his way as the eyes of the Senior Special Agent in Charge of the MCRT followed his former boss up the stairs with a small easy smile on his face. _'_ _ _You'll always be the Boss, Boss,'__ he thought as he turned back to his work.

Actually the entire team seemed to stay out of trouble for quite a few months but the very nature of their jobs required them to be in harm's way every day, so somebody was bound to wind up back in the hospital sooner or later.

* * *

Braylan Thomas liked to play cards, specifically, games involved with betting. Unfortunately, he wasn't all that good at it. Thomas was always in the red, though he had managed to keep everything paid up enough so that Obbie, the cardroom boss, would let him carry a debt for a short time. He had never let his debt be more than could be covered by his twice-monthly paychecks.

Thomas was a Marine Lance Corporal Fuel Specialist. He kept a spotlessly clean record with the Corps, though he noticed his sergeant watching him often.

 _ _'Well, let him,'__ Thomas thought. He had always been very careful to keep his card-playing away from his job here at Quantico. And, there was nothing to pin on him. He always reported on time, his fueling records were in perfect order, he did his work in good time and a complaint had never been made against him.

He was assigned to the Executive Flight Detachment based at Quantico, Virginia, though there was an alert facility that operated at the Naval Support Facility at the Navy Yard in Anacostia. Among other responsibilities, the EFD was responsible for providing helicopter transport for the President and VIP dignitaries. Thomas hadn't been able to secure an assignment to that detail yet but he hoped to one day. That was one plum job - and it looked real good in a personnel file; it could lead to other plum jobs and that sounded good, too.

Then LCP Thomas won a few good hands and decided that his luck had finally changed so he began playing for higher and higher stakes until he couldn't keep his debts paid and now Obbie  _wasn't_  happy.

The next time Thomas had leave and went to DC, he found himself grabbed off the street and brought before the boss in a private back room. No amount of talking would convince Obbie to wait until the next payday. Twenty-four hours. He had to come up with a ton of money within one day.

Thrown out into the street in the rather shady section of a DC suburb, Thomas got himself back on his feet and bleakly glanced around. Drunks staggering along, going to their favorite passing-out places. Other potential players furtively glancing around before quickly ducking through the door. A couple of homies hanging around a street corner selling drugs.

He sat on the curb taking stock of his situation. Obbie had taken all the cash he had on him and that was half a month's pay. He didn't even have enough to get back to base. There was no way he could come up with that much cash by tomorrow night.

He stood up and slowly walked down the street, head hanging low, hands stuffed into jacket pockets. He felt as if he had been suckered into this situation. For nearly a year, he had managed to sort of break even. He had no money for anything else but he didn't want to do anything else. Some men drank. Some chased women. Some bet on the ponies. But gambling was his addiction.

He had no idea where the man came from, but he was startled to look up to see a big beefy guy standing in front of him. He spoke in a gravelly growl. "Got troubles?"

Thomas answered flatly, "Everybody's got troubles."

The other man studied the marine's face before he said, "Need some quick money?"

"Doing what?"

The stranger grinned, revealing twin rows of tooth decay in various stages. "Depends on how much ya want."

Thomas' instinct was to turn and run. This didn't sound too good. However, being crippled or worse by Obbie's thugs sounded worse. "Five grand would do."

The stranger nodded as he continued to study the cleancut young man before him. "Military?"

"Marine."

"When you due back?"

"Tomorrow by midnight."

"Don't get lost. I'll be back."

Thomas shrugged. "Got nowhere to go."

The man disappeared back down a black alley where he had apparently come from.

Lance Corporal Thomas had an uneasy feeling in his stomach. What would he have to do to earn that much money that quickly? His mind ran through the skills that the Marine Corps had given him and felt as if he could handle about most anything. Well, he'd see what the guy said. He hadn't agreed on anything yet so he could always just say 'No thank you.'

Only about thirty minutes later, the big man reappeared. "Somebody wantsa talk to ya."

Thomas felt really uneasy about following this guy down the black alley but, really, what choice did he have? Besides, he had been taught hand-to-hand combat so he'd probably be okay.

The man led him through a series of alleyways until he was totally confused and his sense of direction was shot. The big guy stopped at a door and tapped a code on it. The door opened just enough for them to squeeze through. Inside, the smell of old, stale things nearly got his stomach.

A much older man, seated in a nice leather recliner, rasped, "Come over here where I can see you, young man."

The man who brought him here motioned for him to step forward with a jerk of his head.

"So you're a military man, huh?"

"Yes, sir. Marine, sir."

The old man chuckled. "I see that you've learned how to properly address those in charge over you. That's good. I like it."

Having no response, Thomas stood silently.

"Jerome tells me you are in a tight spot and would appreciate temporary employment. Is that true?"

"Yes, sir. I don't really want to but - I don't have a lot of choice, sir."

"This will work out well for both of us. There is a man who has been causing me problems and I've become quite annoyed by it. I would like for you to see that he troubles me no more. For that I will gladly pay you six thousand dollars in cash. Is that satisfactory?"

Thomas blinked and swallowed. "You - you want me to - kill him."

A smile and a nod of his head verified Thomas' understanding. The young marine felt as if his breathing was suddenly restricted and he couldn't get enough air.

"Y- yes, sir. I - agree." Thomas' voice was quiet and shaky and he felt a solid lump of ice settle into his stomach.

"Excellent! Very good. Jerome will take you to this man's residence. You may use whatever weapon you care to use. Afterward, Jerome will bring you here and you will receive your pay."

Jerome jerked his head toward the door indicating that Thomas should follow him. Giving the old man a last quick glance, he followed Jerome out the door.

Jerome led him to a garage. Inside he gestured for Thomas to get into a nice black Chrysler 300.

Jerome drove for a while in silence. Thomas had never been so nervous in his entire life. Could he really do this? Who is the guy he was supposed to kill?

He thought back to the odd contradiction of the old man and his environment. A nice expensive leather recliner in a ratty, smelly room. And a fairly expensive car. He glanced once at Jerome but knew he'd never get any answers from him. And where was he supposed to get a weapon? He felt as if he was going to throw up any second now and kept trying to swallow the bile that was trying to creep up into his throat.

At last, Jerome slowed and quietly stopped on a dark residential street under a tree that made the black car even less noticeable. Jerome told him to get out and close the door quietly then met him behind the car where he unlocked the trunk and opened a huge case of weapons ranging from handguns to an actual bow and arrow.

Looking over the selection, he picked up several guns until he found one that felt at home in his hand. "I'd like to take a knife as backup, too."

Jerome nodded and continued to stand without moving or commenting. Thomas chose a full-sized K-bar like the one he had trained with in the Corps as a backup to the .45 caliber Glock he selected. A small flashlight was added and that was it.

"What's this guy's name, Jerome?"

"Not important. Do it, come back here."

Thomas felt even more nauseous, if that was possible. He had serious doubts about a positive result from this. Murder.  _ _'Am I capable of murdering an unarmed, innocent non-combatant?__ _'_  He'd go to jail for the rest of his life if caught. All because he couldn't stop the cards. He'd tried but always went back at some point.

Staying in the shadows, Thomas eased up the driveway listening carefully. Sure hoped there wouldn't be a dog in the back. All the lights were off, so the guy must be in bed. He looked at his watch. 2308 hours. He made it to the back gate and eased it open. Apparently there were no dogs.

He wished there was more light but he didn't want use the flashlight out here . He could barely make out the outlines of things and fell over a metal lawn chair he didn't see. He froze in place, not daring to move for long minutes. No one came to investigate the noise so he got to his feet and continued his approach until he could make out a patio and large back deck. Continuing to go slowly, he finally reached the back door.

The screen door was unfastened so now he was staring at the locked brass doorknob. How was he going to get this thing open? Why hadn't he thought of this before? _ _'Damn, Thomas! You're in way over your head, boy!'__

Kneeling down, he studied the standard, run-of-the-mill knob. If he remembered correctly, this is the same kind of knob that was on his own back door when he was a kid. If so, he'd have it open in only a couple of minutes. He and his kid brother used unlock them all the time.

From one of the nice wicker chairs on the deck, he cut off a straight length of the wicker material with the knife and inserted it into the small hole in the knob. If he wiggled the wicker just right, the door would be open in a minute. It took a little longer than a minute, but he did get the door unlocked.

He sat where he was on the deck for a few minutes, trying to get his breath back and still his shaking hands. _ _'What kind of animal am I to actually go and do this?'__ _  
_

Sitting there in the chill of the night, Thomas realized that he simply couldn't do this. He couldn't kill someone simply to bail himself out of a financial problem that was of his own making.

He quietly slipped off the deck and made his way back to the car where Jerome sat waiting. Thomas opened the passenger door and looked at Jerome. Jerome asked, "Well?"

"I couldn't do it, Jerome. I'm not an animal. None of the weapons were used except the knife I used to cut a piece of wicker from a chair. I brought them back. Guess I'll have to forfeit the money, but I just couldn't it."

Jerome held out his hand for the gun and the knife. Once they were back in his possession, he told Thomas in a chilling, low, flat voice, "Get out of the car."

Thomas just looked at him with shock for a moment and Jerome said it again, this time a little more forcefully, "Out of the car!"

Without taking his eyes from the emotionless eyes of the strongman, Thomas reached for the handle and opened the door. The marine's eyes never moved from the man's face as he shut the door and walked around the back of the car to the sidewalk.

Unaware of it, he adopted nearly the same exact body posture he had when Jerome first made contact with him. The Chrysler backed up a few feet so the driver's window was even with Thomas, Jerome opened the window and said, "Hey, kid!"

Thomas turned and received the full blast of the gunshots fired at him and dropped to the ground without moving as a red puddle rapidly spread around him on the sidewalk.

* * *

First thing the next morning, Tony called out "Gear up. Dead marine, West Falls Church."

On the way, Tony said the body had been found early this morning when someone went out to get the paper. Local police had already taped off the area and were standing by until NCIS arrived.

Tony approached the senior-most of the very young policemen there, Officer McRaney said the nametag. The kid had only been on the small force for a year and was now training the two rookies with him. Tony treated him with respect. He had been in those same shoes himself at one time and knew what it felt like when you had to teach kids something when you should have a teacher yourself.

Actually, the kid had done everything exactly as it should have been and had even taped off the area probably an additional six feet all the way around the perimeter so no potential evidence would be missed.

Tony made it a point to seriously thank him, with a 'good job!' tacked on for good measure. The wide-eyed rookies watched their leader interact with the federal agent with awe. The moment of eye contact Tony had with him told the young cop, "I've been there - I understand."

Officer McRaney allowed a very small smile to soften his young lips for a moment that told the NCIS agent "Thanks. I appreciate it."

Ducky and Palmer arrived and did their initial checking, placing the marine's death somewhere around midnight. All three members of the MCRT stood for a moment wondering where this case was going to lead them.

There was no reason for this marine to be in this neighborhood. His ID gave his name, his parking pass was for Quantico.

But how did he get here and why was he killed?

* * *

~ Continued ~

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Carolina Connection Series: Book 1, part 1: BEGINNINGS  
> The Carolina Connection Series: Book 1, part 2: VENDETTA  
> The Carolina Connection Series: Book 1, part 3: REPRISAL  
>   
> The Carolina Connection Series: Book 2, part 1: LIFE - CHANGE

* * *

 

Tony looked at McGee and MollyMac as they began a careful survey searching for any tiny shred of evidence after taking numerous photos of the scene and the body.

McGee called out, "Might have something over here, Boss!"

He pointed out a clear set of tire tracks on the small accumulation of dirt at the edge of the road next to the curb. "Good job, McEagleEyes! Get a casting of them?"

"On it, Boss."

Molly was kneeling, looking carefully at the grass adjacent to the sidewalk from different angles. When she stood brushing off her hands, she said, "Nobody has been on the grass lately. From the angle the body was laying, the shot had to have come from the direction of the street."

Tony nodded and seemed to be thinking about something, then he said, "MollyMac, will you catch a ride with Ducky back to the Yard. I think we need you on the computer. We need more information - a lot of information."

"Got it. On the way."

Molly searched carefully but the marine's record was clean. He'd never had as much as a parking ticket. Checking his bank records, it appeared that he had made only small deposits from time to time, so where was he putting the bulk of his two monthly pay checks? Another question to be answered. They really needed a visit to Quantico to talk with others there who knew him.

Back at the scene, the young cops were standing around watching the two agents work. At one point, Tony took notice of them and looked at them with one eyebrow raised. Officer McRaney grinned, slightly abashed, "Uh, working crowd control, sir."

Tony had to laugh. The crowd consisted of one young kid and his dog on the opposite side of the street plus an old couple who were sitting on their porch with the newspaper and their morning coffee, paying the agents no attention whatsoever.

Then he asked him, "You ever questioned potential witnesses?"

"No, sir. There's not a lot they let me do."

Tony sighed. "Everybody's gotta start somewhere. Hang in there, kid. Law enforcement is a good career."

He tilted his head towards a house across the street and gestured for the young officer to come with him.

Tony knocked on the door but got no answer. They then went door-to-door a ways up and down both sides of the streets but no one heard or saw anything except one old gentleman to told them he thought heard a car backfiring late in the night but he didn't see anything since he was in bed.

Tony told the young cop, "You never know who will have heard or seen something, even though they may think it isn't related. If you have 'em, leave your business card with each one. Most will probably be tossed in the trash, but someone might think about it later and recall something that will wind up being the break you need. Smile and make 'em feel at ease. Tense or stressed out people won't help you much. Establish empathy, if you can."

The kid was over the moon at the personal attention and information given him by this federal agent. He had heard at the station that feds are always the worst to work with. Well, some maybe, but certainly not this guy. He'd remember this day for a long, long time – even after the day in the future when he applied to NCIS for a job as an agent. The smallest of kind gestures can sometimes reap great results.

Tony casually explained what he and Tim were doing and why. He explained what other steps they would follow and other areas they'd explore. "Sometimes a case will be open and shut. Then there are others that defy solution. But a case is  _never closed_  until the guilty are behind bars and the families have closure. That's what the job is about."

As he and Tim were winding up their work, a car pulled into the driveway of the house across the street where there had been no answer. Tony caught the kid's eye and gestured toward the house with his chin. Joined by the young cop, Tony approached the house and knocked on the door.

After a moment, the door was opened by the same man who had driven in. "Yeah?"

"Good morning, sir. Were you at home around midnight last night?"

"With a friend."

"And you're just getting in?"

"It was a long night."

Tony smiled knowingly with a quick wink. "MmmHmm! I've always said that the best of nights are those that don't end until morning. Or later."

But the man didn't respond so Tony handed him a card, "If you hear of anything, give me a call. And... I might have a number or two you'd be interested in - since you like late nights, too."

Taking the card, the man just nodded and shut the door.

Crossing the street, Tony said softly, "He knows something or is into something he doesn't want to talk about. Did you pick up on that?"

"Yes, sir. He wasn't even interested in the numbers you offered him."

Tony chuckled, "I don't share numbers."

"Didn't think you would, sir," the younger man commented with a grin.

"Did you get the house number?"

"Yes, sir. It was 716."

"Excellent! One of the first things I'll have the team do is check into everything they can find on this guy. He may not be involved in this case, but he's now on our radar."

Tim had everything ready to go, so Tony stuck out his hand, "Good meeting you, Officer McRaney! Good job today! Not a moment's problem with the crowd!"

The officer grinned as his face slightly flushed, then he stammered, "Uh, thank you, sir. Sir? May I have a card, too?"

Tony smiled as he pulled another card from a small case and asked, "And where were  _you_  around midnight, young man?"

The cop looked startled at first, then grinned. "In bed sound asleep, sir. Alone."

"Ehh! Sorry to hear that, kid! It'll get better, I promise."

There was something about this young man that made Tony want to take him under his wing and mentor him. He had a sharp mind and good instincts. He hesitated then turned back, "If I can ever help you, give me a call. If you decide you want to give any other law enforcement agency a try, let me know."

* * *

Jake Taylor wondered what had happened across the street. He saw the crime scene tape, extra cops standing around and the suits doing something. FBI or somebody. DC was crawling with 'em.

He sighed. Well, it didn't involve him because he wasn't even here. Not necessarily with a friend, but somebody he sometimes worked with. He made himself a cup of coffee and leaned back in a Lazy-Boy recliner to enjoy it as he thought.

This time next week he expected to have two more cardrooms operating. He had eight running at the moment and they were doing well. A couple of the other owners weren't real happy to have the competition but they'd just have to accept it; he was here to stay.

If there was one thing he had learned from his stint in the military, it was how to run an operation efficiently. He had selected some of his buddies from back in the day to run each room and it was working out well for all of them. And, he wanted to run them with a little more class than the others he'd seen.

His employees from the Corps appreciated the same orderliness and cleanliness he did. Simple things like matching chairs at a sturdy table was a major difference between his rooms and those of others. If the players sensed it - and they would - it would set a better tone and bring out a little better behavior.

People from all walks of life regularly visited his rooms - from high class doctors and lawyers, to school teachers, executives, newspaper people, housewives - name it and they were there. There was no discrimination in gambling addictions; it could hit anybody - and was hard to break.

He wasn't sure what to do about Aldridge Carney. The old man resented him highly and took his new rooms as a personal affront. He wanted an entire large sector to himself and that wasn't gonna happen.

He glanced at the business card given to him earlier. NCIS. Yeah. He knew about them from his time in the Corps. Coffee finished, he yawned and headed for his bedroom. His 'day' was mostly at night. The rooms usually opened about six in the evening and closed around three or four the next morning.

Depending on their location, a few were open at nine in the morning and ran until two in the morning. Those were the busier ones used by neighborhood wives, particularly during the day when husbands and kids were elsewhere. He couldn't help but wonder how they got the amounts of money they gambled with. Well, that wasn't his problem. If they had the money, they could play until they didn't have any. Simple as that.

He'd sleep a while, get a shower when he got up, get a bite to eat somewhere and make the rounds to check in with his room bosses.

* * *

Aldridge Carney was agitated and unhappy. The young Marine had failed. Developed a conscience at the last minute. He couldn't have been left to talk about it at some point, so he had to be silenced.

Thankfully, Jerome had no qualms about carrying out any of his responsibilities.

So, he still had the problem with that man who thought he could just waltz in and set up rooms in someone else's territory. Talking hadn't done any good. Threatening hadn't done any good. That left only one solution. He'd rather not use Jerome for this but it appeared that he may be the only one willing and able to do it.

He began to plot his next moves.

* * *

Abby watched her computer screen as the machine churned through hundreds, if not thousands, of tire treads, looking for a match to the ones from the casting Tim made at the scene. At last it stopped and declared that the treads were a match for a specific make and brand of tire that was used by several car manufacturers.

Now that the brand was known, she began a search for retailers in a five state area around Washington. The list the computer spit out only had about a dozen names on it. Apparently they were expensive and not many retailers wanted to keep that much money tied up in stock that would sit on a shelf.

Tony responded to her call and went over the information she had found.

"Thanks, Abs. Good job!"

Back upstairs at his desk, he studied the list deciding where to start first. Returning from taking Roger on a short walk outside, Molly asked, "Got anything yet?"

"Yeah, but I'm not sure how to handle it."

Looking over his shoulder, she commented, "Looks like the telephone will be our friend on this one."

The team leader nodded, "I think you're right. No way we can cover all that distance in person. If there are sales in - maybe the last year or so, we can check further."

Molly held out her hand. "I'll get started on them if you'll get me some coffee. And maybe a sandwich?" she grinned.

"Got yourself a deal, lady!"

Unfortunately, they were short-handed because Tim was stuck in court, waiting to be called to testify.

Molly picked up the desk phone with a sigh and dialed the first number. Those who had sales within the last few years were asked to fax that info and she was already making headway on the next list - who and when.

When he returned, Molly told Tony the order in which she was doing things and he glanced at her progress. He grinned to himself,  _ _'MollyMac's got it in hand!'__  To her, he said, "Great work, MollyMac! What do you want me to do?"

"If you're not busy, you can start tracking down info on the people I have so far. As I get more, I'll pass them on it you. That okay?"

"Sounds like a plan. No word from Probie, yet?"

"No. It's a shame he has to just sit there all day, waiting to be called."

Tony's phone rang. "DiNozzo. Hey, Tim. You done? You're kidding! Well, if that ain't a cartload of crap! Okay. Go get something to eat, then come on back here. Okay. See ya shortly."

Hanging up, the team leader said, "Court recessed for the day so he's gotta go back tomorrow."

The team leader started on the list Molly gave him. Once that list was complete, they'd start visiting each person. Fun, fun, fun - or maybe not.

By lunchtime the next day, Tony and Molly started out chasing down info from their final list while Tim sat unhappily in a hard, uncomfortable chair in a holding area near the courtroom. The investigators called on a pastor, several housewives, eight or ten businessmen, two doctors, a college dean, and several others.

Taking a short break, they stopped at a little place for a sandwich and coffee before continuing on to the next name on the list - Aldridge Carney.

Tony frowned as he looked at the address. "This is in a seedy part of town. What is a person who drives a nice car doing living there?"

Blotting her mouth with a napkin, Molly just shook her head. "I've quit trying to figure out why people do things they do."

When they left, they headed toward the next address. It was terribly hard to find; people here didn't place much importance on house or building numbers. By using the one marked address in this area, they counted buildings from there to try to narrow down their search area, which turned out to be a maze of narrow alleys.

Surely no mailman delivered in this  _mess_. But then, people who live here weren't ones to be receiving mail to begin with. Both agents made sure their service weapons were real easy to get to. They knocked on an assortment of things that served as doors and got an equal odd assortment of responses.

The majority seemed to be hung over and barely able to talk. Certainly not any who would have a high-end automobile.

They slowly made their way through the alleys, knocking on doors, getting nothing even remotely close to what they needed.

The sun had gone over enough that the shadows here lengthened and deepened. Molly glanced at Tony's face. She could tell that he too was getting uneasy.

Finally, he said, "Let's get out of here, MollyMac. This is not a place we want to be caught in after dark."

"You'll get no argument from me!"

They made their way back to the car and sighed as they got in and locked the doors. The agents looked at each other. Molly said, "I want a shower."

Tony muttered, "Save some hot water for me!"

The next morning they returned but had absolutely no luck. Aldridge Carney was not to be found.

Just before noon, Tim gratefully entered the bullpen with a grin. "I'm finally free!" After Tony brought him up-to-date on the case, Tim booted up his computer and began an in depth search for more on this Aldridge Carney.

When finished, he reported to his teammates, "He is 79 years old; has several bank accounts with three hundred thousand to eight hundred thousand in them. He pays taxes on quite a few places in that general area. His occupation is listed as self-employed entrepreneur. No wants or warrants, no outstanding bills that I found, one employee listed as Jerome Keeland, caretaker. Each of the pieces of property in his name is listed as private social club."

Tim looked up to see Tony doing some serious thinking and Molly was mentally fitting pieces together in her mind. "I'd sure like to know where he parks his car."

Tony commented, "I think we should check out some of these 'private clubs.' See just what they've got going. Tim, you ready for some exercise? You wouldn't believe the places MollyMac and I were in yesterday!"

He turned to Molly asking, "You mind doing more research? I've got a feelin' we've found our man."

She smiled, " 'Course not. Just watch yourselves out there!"

"Yes, ma'am. I promise."

* * *

The agents parked and began walking through the area where several of these 'private social clubs' were supposed to be.

They met with stiff resistance at the first place they tried to enter. "Members only!" a bouncer snarled at them. A flash of their badges quietened him quickly and they entered a windowless room about thirty feet square. It reeked of stale cigarette smoke and ancient booze spilled on the old wood floor. Several tables that would easily seat six or eight people were set up with chairs tucked in place around them. A vintage jukebox from the fifties or sixties sat in one rear corner.

A couple of men sat hunched over a counter, sipping on coffee as their bloodshot eyes blankly examined the two strangers. The man behind the counter asked with hostility, "Help you?"

Tony smiled, "Nah, just slumming. What time you open?"

"We're open now."

The agent chuckled, "For the other - uh - social activities."

The big man eyed them through narrowed eyes, taking in their neat haircuts, fresh shaves, suits. "What's the FBI's interest in us. It's just a little place where some of the locals come. They sit, they sometimes talk, they - "

Tim broke in, "...usually loose money?"

The man's eyes zeroed in on him. "Don't know whatcha talkin' about, friend."

Tony looked at Tim and chuckled merrily. Indicating the man, he said, "Can't believe it, Tim! He thinks he's got a big secret here. If he only knew, huh? Come on, let's get out of here before we get fleas or something."

Outside, Tony instantly sobered. "Card room. Bet that's what we'll find in all the others, too."

And it was. By dark when they left, they had visited twelve of the sixteen rooms owned by Aldridge Carney. Now if they could just find  _him_.

* * *

Carney was mad enough to chew nails when Jerome reported the 'FBI' visits to the boss. He wondered what had drawn their attention to his businesses. What were they up to?

He could take no additional safety measures besides what he already had in place without knowing the answers to the questions above.

He wondered if he should just shut down for a while until they lost interest in him. No. That was just too much money to lose. He'd have his room bosses be alert for any indication of snooping and toss the snooper out immediately.

Then another thought hit him. Does this have anything to do with that marine? There is no way in hell that could be traced back to him.

* * *

The next morning, Molly called Quantico then drove there to talk with Thomas' COs and others who knew him. At the gate she showed her badge and was given directions to the building she needed. Entering the outer office of Colonel John Stanton, an attractive young petty officer called her superior, "Special Agent MacKenzie to see you, sir. Yes, sir."

She stood and walked the few feet to the door which she opened and held for Molly. The agent thanked her and turned to meet Col. Stanton who walked toward her, hand outstretched. "Welcome, Special Agent MacKenzie. I'm John Stanton. Have a seat. What can I do for you?"

Molly explained her mission. "We think we have a pretty good lead on who killed him, but we need to know a little more about the Lance Corporal. What can you tell me about him?"

"Only what is in his jacket, basically. I never had occasion to meet him. His record is completely devoid of any marks against him. Did his work, did it well, reported on time. Not an exceptionally outstanding marine apparently but certainly competent and responsible. His sergeant should be able to tell you more since he had regular contact with him. He's out on the flight line now. I'll be glad to escort you to go meet him."

Molly nodded her thanks but said, "I know you are busy, so if you'll just point me in the right direction, I'll find him." Holding out her hand, she thanked the officer and left.

The flight line was only a few blocks away and she took her time on the walk over to review her thoughts on what the Colonel had said.

She stood to one side of the flight line as her eyes took in the activity taking place. Several aircraft were in the process of being fueled as various members of the line crew came and went. The sergeant stood out as he went back and forth between aircraft, overseeing their preparation for flight.

Molly slowly drifted over to the general direction of the sergeant without stepping over the broad yellow line painted on the concrete that marked the beginning of the active flight line. One by one, powerful little tugs hooked up to the nose gear and slowly towed the aircraft to wherever they were supposed to go.

As the last one was being towed off, Molly intercepted the sergeant as he headed back an office in the concrete building adjacent to the flight line. "Sergeant, may I have a moment?"

At first the sergeant's dark eyes looked at her with suspicion, as if she was a reporter or something. She showed him her badge, "Special Agent MacKenzie, NCIS."

He held out a big calloused, dirty hand which she readily accepted. "Sergeant Toby Baker, ma'am." Looking quickly at her now smudged hand, he apologized and said, "Come in here. You can wash up and we can talk. Coffee?"

"Yes, please. Black."

When she returned he gestured to a chair across from a desk littered with papers and forms of nearly every size, shape and color. "Guess this might have something to do with Cpl. Thomas."

"Yes. What can you tell me about him. What was he like? He seemed to have a clean record."

"Yes, ma'am, he did. Gave me no trouble, did his work, always had his paperwork in order. But there was something about him that just bothered me. In fact, - " he hesitated.

At her prompting, he continued, "- I actually followed him that Friday night when he went on leave. I trust that won't have to be made public."

"You trust right. What happened?"

"He wound up in a real bad-looking area of DC. I'm not that familiar with DC so I can't tell you exactly where it was. Took me forever to find my way out of it and get back to something I could recognize. I saw him enter a certain door. I waited several minutes then went in just inside the door, saw what I needed to and left. Never saw him again."

"What kind of place was it?"

"Card room. Had a number of tables set up, everybody playing, placing bets and so on. It really wasn't any of my business what he did on his free time but when a great deal of your unit is charged with flying the President and other VIPs around, I need to know what my people are up to when something seems off. I never told anyone. Once I knew what he was up to, I knew it had no impact on our job here. When he didn't report for work Monday morning, I knew something had happened. I just didn't expect him to be dead. You making any headway on finding out who did it?"

Molly nodded and handed him her card. "If you think of anything at all, please give me a call."

"Yes, ma'am, I will."

Then she thought of another question. "Sergeant? Did you notice what kind of buildings were in that specific area?"

He thought for a moment, then answered, "Everything seemed shuttered and dark. Alleys here and there. Lots of drunks. Few lights anywhere, though I don't know if they were daytime businesses of some sort or just empty."

"Thanks very much, Sergeant."

* * *

The next day the three agents sat discussing all they had, brainstorming what more they might be able to do, and trying to determine what their next step might be.

They had simply had no luck in locating either Aldridge Carney or Jerome Keeland.

While Molly called Fornell to see what the FBI might have on those names or activities, Tony called the PD station that patrolled that area.

Tobias had nothing but Tony got some tips from the LEOs. "They've been aware of these card rooms for a long time but gave up shutting them down. They'd only move a block away and reopen, or close for a while until the cops left, then reopened. There simply was not enough manpower to devote to it."

The area was a mixture of drug addicts, drunks, con men of every sort, bookies, gambling of every sort, runners carrying money here and there. Prostitutes and pimps were on nearly every corner. That station was not a sought-after assignment.

"Any mention of Carney?" Tim asked.

"No. I'm beginning to wonder if that guy even really exists!"

It was quiet as they thought some more. Molly said, "We need somebody to go undercover and play a few hands there. See if anything pops up."

Tim reminded her, "They've seen Tony and me so that won't work."

Molly grinned. "They haven't seen me."

Tony started shaking his head even before she finished. "No! Absolutely not, MollyMac! You've seen what that area is like. You have no business down there!"

"But Tony, you know that's what we need! And I know my way around a deck of cards."

Passing by, Gibbs caught Molly's last words. "Nobody can argue about that! What are you into that requires a deck of cards?"

Tony explained and saw the set of the Boss' face as he saw where it was heading. His narrowed eyes shifted to Molly, unblinkingly staring at her.

When Tony finished, Gibbs said quietly, "I'll go."

A thunderstorm settled over Molly's beautiful face. "Jethro, now you know I'm perfectly able to handle myself and in playin' cards!"

"Never said you couldn't," was his soft response.

"So, why don't you want me to go?"

"Because I don't want anything to happen to you. Nothing. Understand?"

"Well, yes - but - I still think I should go. I can play poker better than you can."

Gibbs stood without moving, arms crossed over his chest, frowning at her. Actually it was more of a standard-issue Gibbs glare.

"You needn't look at me like that, Jethro Gibbs! It doesn't work, remember? Besides, I know too much about you. I think Tony and Tim would really enjoy hearin' some it." The daring grin on her face was unmistakable as her brown eyes sparkled.

Tony and Tim silently looked from one to the other. Finally Gibbs muttered to Molly, "With me. Now!"

They disappeared into Gibbs' private office and were gone for a long time. Without moving his eyes from the door, Tony said, "Twenty says she talks him into it."

Tim replied, "You're on!"

* * *

In the elevator, Gibbs stood hands on hips, head tipped slightly to one side as he glared at his wife with a smile trying to break loose around his mouth. "Now what was all that about, Mrs. Gibbs?"

Eyes shining, Molly answered softly as her arms reached up and encircled his neck, "I just wanted to get you into the elevator for a few minutes. I've missed you today."

A smile was now definitely playing around the corners of his mouth as he put his hands on her shoulders and pushed her back against the stainless steel wall, wrapped her in very strong arms as he pressed himself hard against her and plastered an absolutely  _torrid_  kiss on her mouth.

When they paused for breath, "How's that?" he softly breathed by her ear.

Clearing her throat and swallowing hard, Molly answered a little wobbly, "It's a - g-good start."

"Exactly how long did you want to stay in this elevator?" he nibbled at the lobe of her ear with a smile, knowing that it too was a very sensitive place for her. That soft, low sexy voice and those lips and wandering hands were about to totally wipe her out.

"If you don't stop what you're doin', it won't take long at all!"

"Special Agent MacKenzie! Are you telling me that you'd actually - "

"Yes! So you'd better stop!"

Nuzzling the hollow of her throat - which he knew was another delicate place - he said, "But I thought this is what you wanted."

Almost gasping for breath, she whispered, "Jethro Gibbs, you better  _not_  be late gettin' home tonight!"

Finally having some mercy on her, Gibbs stepped back to allow his big strong hands to stray way down her back then up her sides with a smile dancing in his eyes, as he responded in a low, husky voice, "You don't know how much I look forward to that!"

Tipping his head to one side, he declared, "Now. The woman who shares my bed will never go undercover in a place like that. Never."

"But, Jethro - "

"Jethro, nothing. That's not a place for you, Molly."

"Not for you either, Jethro. Tell you what. We'll both go. How 'bout that?"

"Why both of us?"

"You're the ex-military guy and I'm your card-playin' wife that you didn't want comin' alone. You sit near me on the sidelines and watch people while I wipe 'em out."

Gibbs snorted with that half-smile, "Think I can handle that role? Big stretch, ya know."

"Jethro! I won't be by myself and maybe we finally get a break in this case! We  _really_  need one bad. We have pieces of the puzzle but there's nothing to link them together."

Blue eyes narrowed as he studied her beautiful face looking up imploringly at him. "How do you expect me to make a decision with you looking at me like that?"

Molly smiled as she pulled him down to where she could reach those lips she loved and returned the kiss he'd given her earlier. Then she murmured softly, "We'll go together, okay?"

"Did you give me a choice anywhere along the line there? Just askin'."

"Nope!"

She pushed the button which brought them to the second floor and stepped out with her fingers interlaced with those of her husband and a big smile on her face.

Tony held out his hand and his SFA put a twenty in it. Tony laughed, "Way to go, MollyMac!"

Eyes sparkling, she announced, "We both go."

Tony glanced at his former boss who just shrugged. "What can I say? She drives a hard bargain."

"Uh-huh. Thought we were gonna have to call the fire department from all the smoke coming up from down there. You're looking just a tad disheveled there, MollyMac."

Gibbs' turned his glare onto his former SFA. "Shutting up, now, Boss!"

"Not your boss, DiNozzo. Fill me in on your case."

* * *

~ CONTINUED ~

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Carolina Connection Series: Book 1, part 1: BEGINNINGS  
> The Carolina Connection Series: Book 1, part 2: VENDETTA  
> The Carolina Connection Series: Book 1, part 3: REPRISAL  
>   
> The Carolina Connection Series: Book 2, part 1: LIFE - CHANGE

* * *

 

They were discussing the case when Tony's phone rang.

"DiNozzo. Yeah, whatcha got? Uh-huh. Uh-huh. Got any names? Okay. Thanks. Appreciate the help."

"The PD station down there says that there used to be some rooms that would let a young military guy get in too deep and be offered a job that would pay off the debt. The job usually involved knocking off somebody's enemy or competition. If the guy got cold feet, he was killed. If the job was carried out, he lived but would be blackmailed into doing other jobs for a boss until he wound up dead anyway."

Tim said, "That may have been what happened to Thomas, since he was found across the street from Jake Taylor's house. Bet he was supposed to take Taylor out but got cold feet. Shot and killed on the spot."

Tony nodded, "Really wish we could find that Chrysler!"

Gibbs asked Tony, "When you want to do this undercover thing?"

"It would be better to wait a while. We've been shaking a lot of bushes down there recently. Need to give 'em time to settle down again."

Gibbs nodded and reached for the file folder on Tony's desk that contained all their info and reports. "I'll bring this back to ya."

"Sure, Boss."

As he exited the bullpen, Gibbs tossed back over his shoulder with a tone of weariness, "Not your Boss, DiNozzo."

* * *

Molly was excited and nervous at the same time. She knew she had talked the others into this and she was determined that she would justify their confidence in her. She stood in her closet studying her wardrobe. This place was kind of a dump so her appearance had to be low-key but not trashy.

Jethro had dressed in about two minutes and was now lying across their bed with one hand supporting his head as he watched her consider this, then that and back and forth.

"Molly, just pull something out and wear it."

She smiled back at the man she so dearly loved. "Jethro, if I strike the wrong cord, it won't work."

She studied what he was wearing for a moment, then selected a pair of plain dark slacks and an older but still neat shirt and a pair of plain black flats. She pulled her hair back in a high ponytail and announced herself ready.

A mischievous smile played around his mouth as he looked her over. "So, this is what a gamblin' housewife looks like?"

"I sure hope so. Ya ready?"

With a sigh, he breathed, "I've been ready for the last half-hour."

"Sorry," she smiled, then gave him a kiss that nearly postponed Operation Card Shark.

The Director had authorized three thousand dollars for this occasion, though Morrow hoped upon hope that Molly could manage not going into the red.

Parking some distance away, Gibbs and Molly walked to the cardroom. Just outside the door, Molly looked up at her husband with a smile that was just the least bit nervous. "Wish me luck!"

Gibbs grinned and opened the door.

Inside seven tables were set up but only one was full. Molly followed Gibbs as he headed to the room boss. "Wife wants to play," he murmured.

The boss looked past Gibbs' shoulder at the woman looking back at him with big eyes. Then he turned back to Gibbs with a frown. "How old is she? Looks like a kid. Don't want any trouble with the cops over underaged kids."

Gibbs chuckled softly, "Believe me, she isn't. Gonna let her play or not?"

"Table cover is a hundred."

"And?"

After a moment in which the room boss studied Gibbs' face, he finally nodded and gestured to a table with his chin. "She any good?"

"Better than me."

Gibbs turned to Molly and pointed to the table. "You wanted to come, now you're here."

Partly for the benefit of the room boss, partly for herself she took a small breath with a big smile and turned to the table and took a seat. Glancing around at the other players, their faces told of some curiosity, some dismissed her out-of-hand, others were just interested in the game. She didn't want to come across as too confident, though she honestly felt she could win against anyone here.

Gibbs dragged a chair over behind Molly's, where he could see her cards over her shoulder and how she was going to play. Resting one arm on the back of her chair, while the elbow of the other rested on the back bracing the hand that supported his chin.

He had purchased a five hundred dollar stack of chips that she had organized neatly just the way she wanted them, then looked at the dealer with a smile.

The hand she was dealt had two pairs, queens and sevens. When it came her turn she stayed pat with her hand and pushed enough chips forward to a space just in front of her to cover her bet and pay the table cover. "Raise one hundred."

Grizzled eyes around the table shifted her way then went back to their own cards. Two asked for another card then folded, the next one thought for a moment then growled, "I'll see your hundred and re-raise you another hundred."

The fourth player glanced at the two main players and folded, mostly just wanting to see how this woman played. The fifth player did the same, so now it came back to Molly again.

With a small smile she said, "Call," and added another hundred chips to the others in front of her that she had already bet.

The table was silent as the two competitors eyed each other across the table. Her opponent's eyes flickered to his hand again before he sat back and folded his hand.

The dealer said, "The pot goes to the lady."

Molly gave a silent sigh of relief. She had had only a single one hundred dollar stack left. Had she lost, she would have been forced to squeeze another five hundred out of Jethro or she would have been out.

After she had organized her winnings like she wanted, she turned and flashed a glorious smile to her husband who shook his head and chuckled at her delight. He gave her shoulder a squeeze before he settled into his 'game watching' position and watched her mop up another table.

A few others who had been playing at other tables came to stand around to watch the action. Several who knew without a doubt that they could out-play any woman, this one or any other, took a seat to try their luck against her. She deliberately lost the next hand, not wanting anyone to cry foul.

She won the next hand by more-or-less suckering the others into increasing their bets. You would have thought it was an Olympic event as other tables emptied to come watch and place side bets. Gibbs found himself thoroughly enjoying his wife's steel-nerved bets and bluffs, winning hand after hand. The cards just seemed to always come her way.

As soon as somebody got disgusted and left, someone else hopped right in the seat, eager to play. Molly didn't try to keep a 'poker face' on; she just smiled happily all the time. It was impossible to tell anything by her expression.

By the end of the night, Gibbs was shaking his head, trying not to chuckle too much.

"Can we come back again, Jethro? Please? This was so much fun!"

The room boss smiled. Just having the novelty of her playing had increased the house's take several times over. "Come back again, folks!"

In the safety of the car again, doors locked and enroute to civilization, Gibbs kept shooting little glances at his wife, trying to contain the smiles that wanted to be let free. As soon as they were out of the area, Gibbs called the Yard. Director Morrow was nervously waiting to see how it had gone.

When he answered his phone, Gibbs asked, "Hey, Tom, how much money we got to run this op with?"

With a disheartened sigh, he said, "I can only authorize the three thousand I gave you, Gibbs. How bad is it?"

"Well, I was just gonna say I don't think we need it anymore. She cleaned up with something over two thousand tonight."

* * *

The next week, as soon as Gibbs and Molly walked in the door, players started lining up to play at her table. There was no way they were going to let a woman beat them.

Gibbs took his place behind her chair as before, starting her off with a thousand dollar stack this time. When Molly saw what he had paid for, she let her eyes go big beneath raised brows as she silently asked him, "Ya sure ya wanna risk that much to begin with?"

With a slight quirk of his mouth and an off-handed slight shrug of one shoulder, he answered, "Why not?"

Another quick raise of her brows and her happy smile told him, "Okay! Whatever ya think!"

Cards were dealt, bets placed, more cards dealt, raises and calls made and Molly took up where she left off the week before. More and more people came into the room, standing wherever they could find a place, even standing on chairs so they could see what was happening over the crowd.

At one point, an older man joined the table and almost instantly Molly detected that he was manipulating the cards. She won the pot but sent a serious glance back to Gibbs. The next hand, she let her opponent get himself in real deep, then looked at the dealer saying quietly, "Challenge."

The dealer looked up surprised and cast his eyes quickly around the table which then settled on the suddenly nervous player. The dealer declared that the pot was dead, meaning that all bets were off at that point.

Once challenged, the player had to show his hand to the dealer. He was showing three aces, then Molly slowly unfolded her hand to the dealer showing two pairs, aces high, kings low. No deck of cards has five aces.

The two bouncers deftly and quietly lifted the man up by the back of his shirt and frog-marched him out the door. Chips of a cheater automatically went to a successful challenger and all other chips bet were returned to the players and a new hand dealt with a new deck as another player joined the table with an anticipatory grin.

Four hours later, Molly realized she was really tired and glanced back at Gibbs, who stood at the end of the hand and gathered Molly's chips to cash in. As she pushed her chair back, she gave a beautiful smile to everyone, thanking them for the games, preparing to leave.

"Miss, you comin' back next week?" "You comin' back, lady?" "Ma'am, comin' back again?" Obviously, everyone wanted either a chance at playing against her or to take part in the side bets.

While they waited for the boss to get the cash Molly had won, they heard the boss tell one of the bouncers to go get the owner's car from the garage. Being new, the bouncer asked, "Where is it? Never seen it before."

"'Round the corner, couple o' doors down. Black Chrysler. Bring it back here."

Molly and Gibbs pretended that the overheard conversation meant nothing to them, as the boss counted out the bills into Gibbs' hand.

Out the door and strolling casually around the corner, they took off running as fast as they could to get the agency sedan the second they were out of sight of the cardroom. Gibbs slung the Challenger around in a rear-end-swerving one hundred eighty degree direction and sped down to the corner where the garage was supposedly located just in time to see the shiny black Chrysler nose out of the garage and turn toward the cardroom. Molly grabbed a camera from the back seat and started snapping photos.

During a lull, she called Tony who was waiting for them at the Yard. "Tony! We found the car!" She relayed the details to him as Gibbs maneuvered the agency's Challenger into a dark place where they could watch the room with little chance of being seen themselves. The black Chrysler now sat in front of the room with one of the bouncers keeping watch over it, beautifully photographed by a silver-haired agent.

Shortly a big man moved out of one of the dark, shadowy alleys and strode into the room, only to emerge a couple of minutes later and got into the car. The only sound in the agency's car was the sound of the camera.

"They must be running short on cash. This guy is going to the 'bank' to bring the room's cash-on-hand back up to whatever the pre-determined level should be. Or, he could be swapping some of the hundreds in for higher denomination bills. That's more likely, considering all that was going on in there tonight. Seems that somebody walked out with most of 'em tonight." Not taking his eyes from their target, a smile danced around his face.

Lights off, they eased away from the curb, remaining a few blocks behind the Chrysler. A few miles away, the driver pulled over to the curb, glanced around as he closed the car door and straightened his jacket. He went into a dark, nondescript building for no more than five minutes, then he returned to the car, did a one-eighty to retrace the ride back to the room.

Molly reported to Tony who became excited that finally they had a lead. A solid gold lead! "How much did you win tonight?"

"Dunno. Haven't counted it yet."

The total haul for the night was slightly over eight thousand dollars. Director Morrow was going to be  _very, very_  happy! The agency's contingency fund would now be overflowing.

At the Yard, Gibbs put the money in a safe and talked with Tony for a bit, then took his tired cardshark home.

* * *

The next day, Tony and Tim eased a sedan to the curb next to the garage they had a warrant to enter. The street was deserted. Not many people were about in the early morning hours around here. Opening the garage, they were quickly inside, looking at the car they had sought for so long.

On his hands and knees, Tim read the name and other information on the sides of the expensive tires with a grin. They were a match to the ones Abby identified. A high five was happily exchanged.

Gibbs was just outside of a judge's chambers waiting for this confirming information. The clerk led the way into the chamber where the Honorable James G. Harlan was studying files piled on his desk.

"Got what you need, Agent Gibbs?"

"Yes, sir. Confirmed."

"Alright. Give me your papers." He peered through glasses as he read every word of the requested warrants, then glanced at the agent and said with more than just a touch of sarcasm, "You sure this is all you need? I mean there is probably an old milk carton somewhere down there that you'll want to look at."

Gibbs grinned but kept quiet as the judge signed the warrants, then thanked him and beat a hasty retreat. It was never a good idea to hang around a judge for very long. Get what you needed and get the hell out of Dodge!

Back at the Yard in one of the conference rooms, Gibbs joined Tony's team to focus on their next steps. The tag on the Chrysler was registered to Carney Enterprises, PO box 49356, Washington, DC. They had decided to have the car towed in to the Evidence Garage and let Abby and Dave see what they might be able to find, then take it back as quickly as possible.

Tony and Tim would run a loose surveillance on the card room while they waited on evidence results from the lab. Meanwhile, Molly kept searching for anything she could possibly dig up on Carney and Keeland.

Keeland had records going all the way back to juvenile courts from various run-ins with the law. In his twenties, he had served three years in state prison for attempted robbery. Other infractions of varying degrees of severity continued into his thirties, then he dropped off the grid for the most part.

Income taxes were filed on time which showed an income of forty thousand a year through his employment with Carney Enterprises at the same address as the license plate registration.

Taking a few minutes to stretch her legs, Molly wandered down to the Evidence Garage to see how the investigation was going there.

Dave said, "I think we have some potentially damning evidence that will prove that whoever was driving the car was the shooter, and hair samples may prove that Lance Corporal Thomas had been in that car at some point in time. Looks good right now, but we'll have to see what science tells us upstairs. Hey, I hear you mopped up with the cards. Where on earth did you learn to play?"

A bashful grin as she answered, "My grandparents."

* * *

The lab verified Dr. Holland's suspicions. Their work proved that Thomas had been in the passenger seat of the car because DNA from two hairs found on the seat matched the DNA sample taken from Thomas' body during autopsy. There was residual powder on the driver's side door proving that a gun had recently been fired by someone in the driver's seat.

The tire casting at the curb proved that the Chrysler had been there beside Thomas' body.

Fingerprints found all over the car more than proved that Jerome Keeland had driven the car.

Keeland's known employment by Carney Enterprises linked Aldridge Carney to Thomas' murder.

The fact that Jerome Keeland drove the Chrysler from the card room to the 'bank' and back again proved the links between the car, Thomas, Keeland and Carney.

Now, to have an airtight case, they had to prove that Carney's card room was a deliberate set up to entrap young military men into doing dirty work when needed.

They considered having Tim play the part, but in spite of his brilliant mind, poker just wouldn't stick. He simply wasn't a card player.

Gibbs began a search for an agent who could do it. Two days later he introduced the team to Special Agent Carl Powell who looked to be about eighteen (or younger) but who was actually twenty-nine and something of a cardshark himself.

Gibbs took all of them upstairs to a conference room and sat Agent Powell and Molly across from each other, telling them to play poker. He'd keep score as the dealer.

The cards were shuffled, dealt and the game was on. Powell gave Molly some competition, but her sheer guts in bets sometimes gave her the edge. Neither could Powell get a read on her expression. She never lost her happy, smiling expression.

At the end of two hours, Molly had won by a fair margin, but he had made her work for it. She shook his hand, giving him a "You're good!" to ease his loss.

Powell was their man.

* * *

Special Agent Powell now wore his light brown hair in a crisp military cut and was given money to play with from the huge excess Molly's expertise had provided the agency. The initial three thousand had been returned to its original account long ago.

On a Saturday night Agent Powell was accepted at a table and began playing. He did well and pocketed his original money plus several hundred more.

The following Friday night he played and won an acceptable amount, then transferred over to the larger stake table where Molly was playing. She played as she always did, winning a great majority of the time, allowing others to win at other times. She pretty well knew what Powell's hands were by the way he played, so she threw the game to him a time or two.

The room boss watched the play and noted that Powell was a pretty decent player. He drifted away and made a very quiet phone call, then returned to just watch.

By now, the room boss knew that Molly wasn't cheating in any way, shape or form. She was just an extraodinarily good player. At times, the table narrowed down to Molly versus Carl. To put the undercover agent into the losing position he needed to be, he deliberately made a couple of bad plays that put Molly as the winner. Both were so good, either could throw the game to the other without detection to anyone else. They would be devasting in Vegas!

Shaking his head sadly, he got up from the table and stood over on the sidelines for a time studying the floor. Then he looked at the room boss and hesitantly made his way over to him.

"Uh, sir? You're the boss here, right?"

"Yeah."

"Well, sir. I was wondering - um, if - maybe I could get a loan until payday or until I win. I think I can beat her."

The boss took his time making his decision. Might be a real good setup here for the owner - and he'd get a cut, too.

"Okay, kid. But the owner don't take kindly to people who don't keep their word." He handed Powell chips for eight hundred dollars after he signed an IOU slip.

When a seat opened up, the agent happily slipped into it before anybody else could get it and grinned at Molly in anticipation of their contest. Time after time, it was one, then the other, back and forth. Again everybody wanted to watch. Both players really enjoyed the give and take as each kept a running total in mind of the state of the money.

Powell needed to win enough to pay back the house but Molly couldn't lose her edge and growing reputation either.

When the cards and money finally ended where they wanted it to be, Molly turned to Jethro and said, "I'm gettin' real tired now. Can we go home?"

He nodded and gather her chips to cash in. Not quite as high as before but staggering just the same. They left and drove to the place they were to meet Powell. Shortly he arrived with a smile and slid into the back seat.

"Everything go okay?" Molly asked.

"Smooth as silk!" he answered. "That was fun, too! You're really good!"

She grinned, "Thanks, Carl. You made me work for it and I enjoyed it!"

Back at the Yard, Gibbs put all the winnings into the safe. "You got a way home, Powell?"

"Yes, sir. Thanks."

Gibbs closed his eyes and started to give his usual response to that respectful address, when Powell and Molly said in unison, "Don't call me sir."

They found it funny but Gibbs just glared. However the twitch at one corner of his lips gave him away.

* * *

The weekly visits to the card room continued and Powell was moving into position beautifully. Now it was about time for him to lose big time and hopefully bring this case to a close.

Agents disguised as bums, drunks and other denizens of the night in this part of town were positioned all around the area in hopes that this would be the night they could wrap it up at last.

Powell should have been an actor. He had consistently played his role perfectly. Having his comrades-in-arms close and all around him gave him full confidence to stay in character and bring the elusive Aldridge Carney to the surface of this slime pool.

As usual, the table eventually settled into a two-person marathon of Powell against Molly. Powell would win a little and bet most of it again, win, then bet most of it again, eventually falling out of contention, broke and owing the boss a bundle.

After Powell dejectedly left the table, the boss gestured for him to follow him to a back room. There the agent was subjected to the twenty-four-hour pay-up-or-else threat.

He left the room and stood on the broken sidewalk and glanced around as if wondering where to go or what to do. Actually he was spotting his backup. Deciding to turn to his right, he began slowly trudging along, head down, studying the sidewalk. Fairly quickly afterward, Jerome popped up in front of him and did his spiel about making money. When he returned, he began leading the agent through the maze to meet Carney. Backup assets shifted their positions so he would still have a much coverage as circumstances permitted.

It was nerve-racking while Powell was in the dark maze with only Jerome to lead him, but everyone kept their cool, waiting for some sign of his return.

After many slow minutes passed, agents keeping watch on the garage door, whispered into mikes that the Chrysler was leaving with two occupants, one of whom was Powell.

Gibbs and other agents parked around the area, pulled out to tail the car, using a multiple-tail system that allowed the lead tail car to turn off leaving the second tail car to follow. Switching position over and over threw Jerome off, believing that no one was following them.

Pulling into a rather well-to-do-neighborhood, the black car quietly eased to a stop across from a beautiful Victorian style home. As soon as Jerome opened the trunk displaying the case of varied weapons to Powell, suddenly the place was full of armed federal agents and the big man was cuffed and put into the back of a car and taken to the Yard.

Gibbs, congratulating Powell on a job superbly done, put him in the back seat of the sedan he and Molly had arrived in and turned back toward the low-rent district to meet with other agents waiting for their return.

Powell carefully led Gibbs and other agents through the alleys then stopped before Carney's door. Everyone got into position, then Powell tapped the code on the door that Jerome had used.

The moment the door opened, Carney was overwhelmed by the sheer amount of manpower and firepower, surrendering with little resistance.

Back at the Naval Yard, the Director and all of the agents who had had participated in this case were in the bullpen room when Special Agent Carl Powell brought the handcuffed Carney in, followed by Gibbs and MacKenzie. The release of pent up emotion and adrenaline resulted in a rather raucous celebration as the aged criminal was taken through the room to detention.

Gibbs pushed Carl, Tony and Tim toward the stairs to the Director's level. At the top, Morrow stood with a huge smile on his face and his hand extended to his agents. "Congratulations, Powell, DiNozzo, McGee! That was one helluva operation! Great work." Then looking around, he asked, "Where's Mac?"

Tony gestured toward Molly's desk, saying, "She's started on her report."

Morrow laughed. "She doesn't wait around, does she?"

"No, sir. Always right on top of things."

* * *

Tony and Gibbs went to see that Carney's booking was being done properly, then returned to the bullpen. Tim was downstairs in the lab, waiting to see what else Dave and Abby might come up with.

Lawyers, the US attorneys, and all other interested parties, did their things, as Tony reviewed all that his team had done, making sure that there were no gaps or questionable actions. Everything was documented and photographed; this was an air tight case.

The Director returned to his office and began the process that would ensure that DiNozzo's team, Agent Powell and Special Assistant Gibbs received Superior Commendations for bringing this complicated case to a close.

Then he thought of the young Marine whose death started the whole thing.

"Rest in peace, son."

* * *

The FBI, under whose jurisdiction it fell, conducted the raids that closed down all of Carney's card rooms. At first, Jake Taylor was jubilant about having all of his competition removed, but that was short lived when his own rooms started being taken out one by one.

Taylor never made the connection of the murder of a young marine across the street from his home with the steady downfall of his own domain.

Cases continued, research was always required, lab results had to be studied, life at NCIS continued.

Molly and Jethro couldn't be any happier with each other. Jethro felt as if he had finally found the peace and contentment he'd been looking ever since he lost his girls.

He had been concerned with the age difference between himself and Molly, but she told him, "Jethro, neither of us knows what lies ahead for us. Besides, you're more like fifty-one going on twenty!"

She laughed, then continued in a serious tone, "Jethro, I'll take an hour, a day, a year or whatever time I can have with you over anyone else on this earth. You are the man who makes me complete, happy and totally content with my life. I - I can't even imagine living without you."

"When we met back home, I never would have imagined that we'd wind up married - much less to each other! But I'm so glad we did. Wasn't necessarily easy to get here, but that makes it just that more precious. And I love you more than I ever thought one person could love another."

He had gathered her close, burying his face in that sweet-smelling silky hair. Emotions, formerly kept under strictest control, now allowed a single tear to slide down his face. Never had he ever expected to be where he was now.

Rachel Cranston had helped him finally realize how truly emotionally crippled he had been. Even the PTSD he had suffered from the Gulf War had at last been dealt with. At times it wanted to return but he was now equipped to deal with it, he could cast it off. No more lonely nights in his basement with a bottle of bourbon.

Basically, for the first time in many, many years, he was free to be who he really was, not the tormented, guilt-ridden tyrant he had become - and he never again wanted to return to being that person. He woke up every morning happy, holding his Molly close and tight, waking her with a soft whisper in her ear that he knew would awaken her to their morning in bed before they had to get ready for work.

Molly was completely devoted to Jethro, loving every second they were together, always looking forward to the end of a day so the two of them could clasp their hands together and leave the Yard with Roger. There were no arguments, no disagreements. They gently worked things out with each other and thus avoided the many pitfalls marriage often created for two people.

Their private life would be the envy of the world if it was known. Jethro was totally delighted with his wife and never failed to take great pleasure in sharing those times with her and her responses to him.

And Molly was thrilled with her husband. Who would have ever guessed that Jethro Gibbs was such a sensual man. Just one of many things she had happily discovered about him.

He loved to get her in a slightly awkward situation, such as the one in the elevator, and get her flustered - if that would be the word. He was usually no less in that condition himself but hid it much better.

He simply enjoyed her no matter where they were or what they were doing. She's the one who gave his laugh back to him - a real, genuine laugh. So many things he had missed for far too many years while he allowed himself to be held prisoner to his broken emotions.

Roger was always with them, unless he was spending one of his weekends with Mr. Jenkins. The shepherd enjoyed going everywhere with them, experiencing new sights, sounds and smells, meeting people who made a fuss over him.

At times, images of his wartime service drifted across his intelligent mind but he understood that those awful days and years were far in the past and there would only be what he had now for the rest of his life. He willingly accepted Gibbs as his number two human, but no one would ever dislodge Molly from her number one spot.

Once in a while, when there was time, she'd take Roger up with her in Charlie for just a short time in the sky. He loved it. Of course, he had no words with which to name or describe the experience but somehow he understood that it was a very special time and place.

Jethro too flew with her as they just explored the countryside from the air. He always found it to be a fascinating experience. Just one more thing they enjoyed together. Several times they had flown to the Shenandoah Valley or somewhere and stayed at a bed and breakfast, flying back Sunday evening.

The current arrangement at NCIS worked well for both of them. There were other adventures and cases but those are stories for another time.

* * *

Next

The Carolina Connection Series

continues with

Book 2 part 2

LIFE: GREECE

 


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